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SCIENCE FICTION

THE BIRTH OF THE SPACE STATION by WILLY LEY

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SCIENCE-FICTION

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APRIL, 1953

Galaxy

SCIENCE FICTION

Vol. 6, No. 1

ALL ORIGINAL STORIES

NO REPRINTS!

CONTENTS

NOVELETS PAGE

MADE IN U.S.A. by J. T. M'lniosh 4

UNIVERSITY by Peter Phillips 64

THE SENTIMENTALISTS by Murray Leinsier 118

SHORT STORIES

SEVENTH VICTIM ........ by -Robert Sheckley 38

UNREADY TO WEAR by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. 98

NON-FACT ARTICLE

ORIGINS OF GALACTIC LAW by Edward Wellen 87

SCIENCE DEPARTMENT

FOR YOUR INFORMATION by Willy Ley 52

FEATURES

EDITOR'S PAGE by H. L Gold 3

FORECAST 51

GALAXY'S FIVE STAR SHELF by Groff Conklin 114

Cover by SCHOMBURG showing STILL LIFE IN SPACE

H. L. GOLD, Editor

ROBERT GUINN, Publisher
WILLY LEY, $cience Editor

EVELYN PAIGE, Assistant Editor

W. . I. VAN DER POEL, Art Director

JOAN De MARIO, Production Manager

GALAXY Science Fiction is published monthly by Galaxy Publishing Corporation. Main offices :
421 Hudson Street, New York 14, N. Y. 35c per copy. Subscriptions: (12 copies) $3-50 per
year in the United States, Canada, Mexico, South and Central America and U.S. Possessions.
Elsewhere $4.50. Entered as second-class matter at the Post Office, New York, N. Y. Copyright,
1953, by Galaxy Publishing Corporation. Robert Guinn, president. All rights, including
translation, reserved. AH material submitted must be accompanied by self -addressed stamped
envelopes. The publisher assumes no responsibility for unsolicited material. All stories printed in
this magazine are fiction, and any similarity between characters and actual persons is coincidental.

Printed in the U.S.A. by the Guinn Co., Inc.

Reg, U.S. Pat. Off.

COMMON SENSE (II)

WITH a few ill-chosen
words in the January
editorial called "Com-
mon Sense," I unwittingly bump-
ed into a nest that the most
truculent hornet would be proud
to belong to.

I said we are not faced by the
threat of real inflation.

The reaction was so instanta-
neous and violent that one would
think the danger of inflation is
necessary to our sacred institu-
tions. That's not how I see it. I

* * ■

sense a fear of losing a fear, per-
haps for fear that the eradicated
fear will leave room for another
and possibly more terrible fear.

If that's so, then I probably

have no right trying to alleviate
what strikes me as a needless
anxiety. But our era is confronted
by so many real ones that it
seems to me the removal of un-
real fears should release energy
to tackle genuine problems.

Here is what I was guilty of
saying:

"Inflation is a sudden and dis-
astrous gap between the cost of
living and income. If income
keeps pace with rising prices, the
result is a decline in the pur-
chasing power of money, but it
is not inflation . . .

"It doesn't matter whether
steak cost 10c or $1000 a pound.

If wages are $1000 an hour, it
won't stay at 10c a pound. If
they're 10c an hour, $1000 a
pound is cataclysmic. But 10c
an hour and 10c a pound and
$1000 an hour and $1000 a pound
are equal."

Let's be even blunter: they are
exactly equal, which may be un-
orthodox economics, but it's a
good statement of relativity. It
isn't for or against; it's just the
seemingly reckless truth that the
height or depth of wages and
prices is less important than Jhe
gap between them.

I don't see evidence of any
such gap. As long as there is
none, inflation is not a menace.

Let's not confuse individual
distress with general disaster.
Persons and groups with fixed
incomes are being pressed hard,
no doubt of it. I didn't need the
news item one reader sent in,
headlined "High Prices Force
Worker onto Relief," to convince
me; we can all supply affidavits.

But true inflation, which I,
along with anyone else who went
overseas in World War II, saw
in full tornado destructiveness,
doesn't . merely press hard. It
pauperizes. Savings are wiped
out. Insurance and other invest-
ments become trash. Only goods
(continued on page 112)

COMMON SENSE (II)

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

IN U.

By J. T. MiNTOSH

" *

She couldn't keep the truth from him and he
couldn't keep the truth from the world— and

■ i

so began the strangest divorce trial ever!

NOT a soul watched as
Roderick Liff com car-
ried his bride across the
threshold. They were just a cou-
ple of nice, good-looking kids-
Roderick a psychologist and Ali-
son an ex -copy -writer. They
weren't news yet. There was
nothing to hint that in a few

Illustrated by IMSN

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MADE IN U.S.A.

days the name of Liffcom would
be known to almost everyone in
the world, the tag on a case
which interested everybody. Not
everyone would follow a murder
case, a graft case, or ah espionage
case. But everyone would follow
the Liffcom case.

Let's have a good look at them
while we have the chance, before
the mobs surround them. Rod-
erick was big and strong enough
to treat his wife's 115 pounds
with contempt, but there was no
contempt in the way he held her.
He carried her as if she were a

million dollars in small bills and
there was a strong wind blowing.
He looked down at her with his
heart in his eyes. He had black
hair and brown eyes and one
could see at a glance that he could
have carried any girl he liked over
the threshold.

Alison nestled in his arms like
a kitten, eyes half-closed with
rapture, arms about his neck.
She was blonde and had fantas-
tically beautiful eyes, not to men-
tion the considerable claims to
notice of her other features. But
even at first glance one would

know that there was more to Ali-
son than beauty. It might be
brains, or courage, or hard, bitter
experience that had tempered her
keen as steel. One could see at a
glance that she cduld have been
carried over the threshold by
any man she liked.

As they went in, it was the end
of a story. But let's be different
and call it the beginning.

N the morning, when they were
-at breakfast on the terrace,
the picture hadn't changed rad-
ically. That is, Roderick was
rather different, blue-chinned and
sleepy-eyed and in a brown
flannel bathrobe, and Alison was
more spectacularly different in
a pale green negligee that wasn't
so much worn as wafted about.
But the way they looked at each
other hadn't changed remotely —
then.

"There's something," remarked
Alison casually, tracing patterns

on the damask tablecloth with
one slim finger, "that perhaps I
ought to tell you."

Two minutes later they were
fighting for the phone.

I want to call my lawyer,"
Roderick bellowed.

"I want to call my lawyer,"
Alison retorted.

He paused, the number half
dialed, "You can't," he told her
roughly. "It's the same lawyer."

She recovered herself first, as
she always had. She smiled sun-
nily. "Shall we toss a coin for
him?" she suggested.

"No," said Roderick brutally.
Where, oh, where was his great
blinding love? "He's mine. I pay
him more than you ever could."

"Right," agreed Alison. "I'll

G A LAXY SCIENCE FICTION

fight the case myself."

"So will I," Roderick exclaim-
ed, and slammed the receiver
down. Instantly he picked it up
again. "No, we'll need him to get
things moving."

"Collusion?" asked Alison

sweetly.

"It was a low, mean, stinking,
dirty, cattish, obscene, disgust-
ing, filthy-minded thing to wait

until ..."

"Until what?" Alison asked

with more innocence than one

would have thought there was

in the world.

"Android!" he spat viciously at

her.

Despite herself, her eyes flashed

with anger.

THE newspapers not only men-
tioned it, they said it at the
top of their voices: human sues

ANDROID FOR DIVORCE. It Wasn't

much of a headline, for one nat-
urally wondered why a human
suing an android for divorce
should rate a front-page story.
After all, half the population of
the world was android. Every
day humans divorced humans,
humans androids, androids hu-
mans, and androids androids.
The natural reaction to a head-
line like that was: "So what?
Who cares?"

intelligence to realize that there
must be something rather special

about this case. ^

The report ran: "Everton,
Tuesday. History is made today
in the first human vs. android
divorce case since the recent
grant of full legal equality to
androids. It is also the first case
of a divorce sought on the
grounds that one contracting
party did not know the other was
an android. This became pos-
sible only because the equality
law made it no longer obligatory
to disclose android origin in any

contract.

"Recognizing the importance of
this test case, certain to affect
millions in the future, Twenty-
four Hours will cover the case,
which opens on Friday, in me-
ticulous detail. Ace reporters
Anona Geier and Walter Hall-
smith will bring to our readers
the whole story of this historic
trial. Grier is human and Hall-
smith android ..."

The report went on to give
such details as the names of the
people in this important test case,
and remarked incidentally that
although the Liffcom marriage
had lasted, only ten hours and
thirteen minutes before the di-
vorce plea was entered, there had
been even briefer marriages re-
corded.

Twenty -four

Hours

thus

But it didn't need particular adroitly obviated thousands of

MADE IN U.S.A.

letters asking breathlessly :
this a record?"

III

A LISON, back at her bachelor
J -*- flat, stretched herself on a
divan, focused her eyes past the
ceiling on infinity, and thought
and thought and thought.

She wasn't ^particularly un-
happy. Not for Alison were mis-
ery and resentment and wild,
impossible hope. She met the
tragedy of her life *with placid
resignation and even humor.

"Let's face it," she told herself
firmly, "I'm hurt. I hoped he'd
say, *It doesn't matter. What

difference could that make? It's
you I love' — the sort of thing

men say in love stories. But what

did he say? Dirty android."

Oh, well. Life wasn't like love
stories or they wouldn't just be
stories.

She might as well admit for a
start that she still loved him.
That would clarify her feelings.

She should have told him
earlier that she was an android, it . . .

Perhaps he had some excuse for

believing she merely waited un-
til non-consummation was no
longer grounds for divorce, and
then triumphantly threw the fact
that she was an android in his
lap. (But what good was that
supposed to do her?)

It wasn't like that at all, of

course. She hadn't told him be-
cause they had to get to know
each other before the question

One didn't say the mo-
ment one was introduced to a

person: "I'm married," or
once served five years for theft,"
or "I'm an android. Are you?"
If in the first few weeks she
had known Roderick, some re-
mark had been made about an-
droids, she'd have remarked that
she was one herself. But it never
had.

When he asked her to marry
him, she honestly didn't think of
saying she was an android. There
were times when it mattered and
times when it didn't; this seemed
to be one of the latter. Roderick
was so intelligent, so liberal-
minded, and so easygoing (except
when he lost his temper) that
she didn't think he would care.

It never did occur to her that

he might care. She just men-
tioned it, as one might say: "I
hope you don't mind my drink-
ing iced coffee every morning."
Well, almost. She just mentioned

And happiness was over.

Now an idea was growing in
the sad ripple of her thoughts.
Did Roderick really want this
divorce case, after all, or was he
only trying to prove something?
Because if he was, she was ready
to admit cheerfully that it was
proved.

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

She wanted Roderick. She 'did-
n't quite understand what had
happened — perhaps he would
take her back on condition that
he could trample on her face
first. If so, that was all right.
She was prepared to let him swear
at her and rage at androids and
work off any prejudice and hate
he might have accumulated
somehow, somewhere — as long as
he took her back.

SHE reached behind her, pick-
ed up the telephone and
dialed Roderick's number.

"Hello, Roderick," she said
cheerfully. "This is Alison. No,
don't hang up. Tell me, why do
you hate androids?"

There was such a long silence
that she knew he was considering
everything, including the advisa-
bility of hanging up without a
word. It could be said of Rod-
erick that he thought things
through very carefully before go-
ing off half-cocked.

"I don't hate androids,'' he

barked at last.

"You've got something against

android girts, then?"

"No!" he shouted. "I'm a psy-
chologist. I think comparatively
straight. I'm not fouled up with
race hatred and prejudice and

megalomania and — "

"Then," said Alison very quiet-
ly, "it's just one particular an-
droid girl you hate."

Roderick's voice was suddenly
quiet, too. "No, Alison. It has

nothing to do with that. It's just

. . . children."

So that was it. Alison's eyes
filled with tears. That was the
one thing she could do nothing
about, the thing she had refused
even to consider.

"You really mean it?" she
asked. "That's not just the case
you're going to make out?"

"It's the case I'm going to
make out," he replied, "and I
mean it. Trouble is, Alison, you
hit something you couldn't have
figured on. Most people want
children, but are resigned to the
fact that they're not likely to

get them. I was one of a family
of eight. The youngest. You'd
have thought, wouldn't you, that
that line was pretty safe?

"Well, all the others are mar-
ried. Some have been for a long
time. One brother and two sisters
have been married twice. That
makes a total of seventeen human

4ft

beings, not counting me. And
their net achievement in the way
of reproduction is zero.

"It's a question of family con-
tinuity, don't you see? I don't
think we'd .mind if there was one
child among the lot of us — one
extension into the future. But
there isn't, and there's only this
chance left."

Alison droooed as close
misery as

dropped as close to
she ever did. She un-

MADE IN U.S.A.

derstood every word " Roderick
said and what was behind every
word. If she ever had a chance
of having children, she wouldn't
give it up for one individual or
love of one individual, either.
But then, of course, she never

had it.

In the silence, Roderick hung
up. Alison looked down at her
own beautiful body and for once
couldn't draw a shadow of com-
placency or content from looking
at it. Instead, it irritated her, for
it would never produce a child.
What was the use of all the ap-
pearance, all the mechanism of
sex, without its one real function?

But it never occurred to her to
give up, to let the suit go un-
defended. There must be some-
thing she could do^ some line
she could take. Winning the case
was nothing, except that that
might be a tiny, unimportant
part of winning back Roderick.

THE judge was a little pom-
pous, and it was obvious from
the start that under the very con-
siderable power he had under the
contract-court system, he meant
to run this case in his own way
and enjoy it.

He clasped his hands on the
bench and looked around the
packed courtroom happily. He
made his introductory remarks

with obvious intense satisfaction
that at least fifty reporters were
writing down every word.

"This has 'been called an im-
portant case," he said, "and it is.
I could tell you why it is im-
portant, but that would not be
justice. Our starting point must
be this." He wagged his head in
solemn glee at the jury. "We

know nothing."

He liked that. He said it again.
"We know nothing. We don't
know the factors involved. We
have never heard of androids.
All this and more, we have to be
told. We can call on anyone any-
where for evidence. And we must
make up our minds here and
now, on what we are told here
and now, on the rights and
wrongs of this case— and on noth-
ing else."

He had stated his theme and
he developed it. He swooped and
soared; he shot away out of
sight and returned like a swift
raven to cast pearls before swine.
For, of course, his audience was
composed of swine. He didn't say
so or drop the smallest hint to
that effect, but it wasn't neces-
sary. Only on Roderick and Ali-
son did he cast a fatherly,
friendly eye. They had given him
his hour .of glory. They weren't

swine.

But Judge Collier, was no fool.
Before he had lost the interest he
had created, he was back in the

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

ourtroom, getting things mov-

"»g-

"I understand," he said, glanc-

ig from Alison to Roderick and
then back at Alison, which was
understandable, "that you are
conducting your own cases. That
will be a factor tending toward
informality, which is all to the
good. First of all, will you look
at the jury?"

Everyone in court looked at
the jury. The jury looked at each
other. In accordance with con-
tract-court procedure, Roderick
and Alison faced each other
across the room, with the jury
behind Alison so that they could
see Roderick full -face and Alison
in profile, and would know when
they were lying.

"Alison Liffcom," said the
judge, "have you any objection
to any member of the jury?"

Alison studied them. They
were people, no more, no less.
Careful police surveys produced
juries that were as near genuine
random groups as could reason-
ably be found.

"No," she said.

"Roderick Liffcom. Have you
any objection

"Yes," said Roderick belliger-
ently. "I want to know how

many of them are androids."

There was a stir of interest in
the court.

So it was really to be a human-
android battle.

JUDGE Collier's expression did
not change. "Out of order,"
he said. "Humans and androids
are equal at law, and you cannot
object to any juror because he
is an android,"

"But this case

the

»>

concerns
rights of humans and androids,"
Roderick protested.

"It concerns nothing of the

kind," replied the judge sternly,
"and if your plea is along those
lines, we may as well forget the
whole thing and go home. You
cannot divorce your wife because
she is an android."

"But she didn't tell me — "
"Nor because she didn't tell
you. No android now is obliged,
ever, to disclose—

"I know all that," said Roder-
ick, exasperated. "Must I state

the obvious? I never had much

to do with the law, but I do
know this — the fact that A equals
B may cut no ice, while the fact
that B equals A may sew the
whole case up. Okay, I'll state
the obvious. I seek divorce on
the grounds that Alison conceal-
ed from me until after our mar-
riage her inability to have a
child."

It' was the obvious plea, but
it was still a surprise to some
people. There was a murmur of

interest. Now things could move.

There was something to argue

about.

Alison watched Roderick and

MADE IN U.S.A.

smiled at the thought that she
knew him much better than any-
one else in the courtroom did.
Calm, he was dangerous, and he
was fighting to be calm. And as
she looked steadily at him, part
of her was wondering how she
could upset him and put him off
stroke, while the other part was
praying that he would be able to
control himself and show up well.

She was asked to take the
stand and she did it absently,
still thinking about Roderick.
Yes, she contested the divorce.
No, she didn't deny that the facts
were as stated. On what grounds
did she contest the case, then?

She brought her attention back
to the matter in hand. "Oh, that's
very simple. I can put it in
she counted on her fingers — -"nine
words. How do we know I can't
have a child?"

Reporters wrote down the word
"sensation." It wouldn't have
lasted, but Alison knew that. She
piled on more fuel.

"I'm not stating my
case," she said. "All I'm saying
at the moment is . . ." She
blushed. She felt it on her face
and was pleased with herself.

She hadn't been sure she could
do it. "I don't like to speak of
such things, but I suppose I must.
When I married Roderick, I was
a virgin. How could I possibly
know then that I couldn't have

a baby?"

whole

T took a long* time to get

things back to normal after
that. The judge had to exhaust
himself hammering with his
gavel and threatening to clear
the court. But Alison caught
Roderick's eye, and he grinned
and shook his head slowly. Rod-
erick was two people, at least.
He was the hothead, quick to
anger, impulsive, emotional. But
he was also, though it was hard
to believe sometimes, a psycholo-
gist, able to sift and weigh and
classify things and decide what
they meant.

She knew what 'he meant as
he shook his head at her. She
had made a purely artificial
point, effective only for the mo-
ment. She knew she was an an-
droid and that androids didn't
have children. The rest was ir-
relevant.

"We have now established;"

the judge was saying, breathless
from shouting and banging with
his gavel, "what the case is about
and some of the facts. Alison
Liffcom admits that she conceal-
ed the fact that she was an
android, as she was perfectly en-
titled to do — " He frowned down
at Roderick, who had risen.
"Well?"

Roderick, at the moment, was
the psychologist. "You mention-
ed- the word 'android/ Judge.

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

Have you forgotten that none of
us knows what an android is?

You said, I believe: 'We have
never heard of androids/ "

Judge Collier clearly preferred
the other Roderick^ whom he
could squash when he liked.
"Precisely," he said without en-
thusiasm. "Do you propose to
tell us?"

"I propose to have you told,"
said Roderick. ~

Dr. Geller took the stand.
Roderick faced him, looking
calm and competent. Most of the
audience were women. He knew
how to make the most of him-
self, and he did. Dr. Geller, sil-
ver-haired, dignified, was as
impassive as a statue.

"Who are you, Doctor?" asked
Roderick coolly.

"I am director of the Everton
Creche, where the androids for
the entire state are made."

"You know quite a bit about
androids?"

"I do."

"Just incidentally, in case any-
one would like to know, do you
,mind telling us whether you are
human or android?"

"Not at all. I am an android."

"I see. Now perhaps you'll tell
us what androids are, when they
were first made, and why?"

"Androids are just people. No
different from humans except that
they're made instead of born. I
take it you don't want me to tell

you the full details of the pro-
cess. Basically, one starts with a

few living cells — that's always
necessary — and gradually forms
a complete human body. There is
no difference. I must stress that.
An android is a man or a woman,
not in any sense a robot or auto-
maton."

There was a stir again, and
the judge smiled faintly. Roder-
ick's witness looked like some-
thing of a burden to Roderick.
But Roderick merely nodded.

Everything, apparently, was un-
der control.

"About two hundred years
ago," the doctor went on, "it was
shown beyond reasonable doubt
that the human race was headed
for extinction fairly soon. The
population was halving itself
every generation. .Even if human
life continued, civilization could
not be maintained

was dull for everybody.
Even Dr. Geller didn't seem very
interested in what he was saying.
This was the part that everyone
knew already. But the judge

didn't interfere. It was all strictly
relevant.

T first the androids had only
been an experiment, interest-
ing because they were from the
first an astonishingly successful
experiment. There was little fail-
ure, and a lot of startling success.
Once the secret was discovered,

MADE IN U.S. A.

one could, by artificial means,
manufacture creatures who were
men and women to the last deci-
mal point. There was only one
tiny flaw. They couldn't repro-
duce, either among themselves or
with human partners. Everything
was normal except that concep-
tion never took place.

But as the human population
dropped, and as the public ser-
vices slowed, became inefficient >
or closed down, it was natural
that the bright idea should occur
to someone: Why shouldn't the

androids do it?

So androids were made and

trained as public servants. At
first they were lower than the
beasts. But that, to do humanity
justice, lasted only until it be-
came clear that androids were
people. Then androids ascended
the social scale to the exalted
level of slaves. The curious thing,
however, was that there was only
one way to make androids, and
that was to make them as babies
and let them grow up. It wasn't
possible to make only stupid,
imperfect, adult androids. They
turned out like humans, good,

bad and 4 indifferent.

And then came the transfor-
mation. Human births took an
upsurge. It was renaissance.
There was even unemployment
for a while again. It would have
been inhuman, of course, to kill
off the androids, but on the other

hand, if anyone was going to
starve, they might as well.

They did.

No more androids were made.
Human, births subsided. An-
droids were manufactured again.
Human births rose.

It became obvious at last. The
human race had not so much
been extinguishing itself with
birth control as actually failing
to reproduce. Most people, men
and women, were barren these
days. But a certain proportion of
this barrenness was psychologi-
cal. The androids were a chal-
lenge. They stimulated a stubborn
strain deep in humans.

So a balance was reached. An-
droids were made for two reasons
only — -to have that challenging
effect that kept the human race
holding its ground, almost replac-
ing its losses, and to do all the
dirty work of keeping a
naut of an economic

jugger-

system

a deci-

functioning smoothly for
mated population.

Even in the early days, the
androids had champions. Curi-
ously enough, it wasn't a matter
of the androids fighting for and
winning equality, but of humans
fighting among each other and
gradually giving the androids

equality.

The humans who fought most
were those who couldn't have
children. All these people could
do if they were to have a family

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

was adopt baby androids. Natur-
ally they lavished on them all the
uffection and care that their own
children would have had. They
came to look on them as their
own children. They therefore were
very strongly in favor of any
move to remove restrictions on
androids. One's own son or
daughter shouldn't be treated as
an inferior being.

That was some of the story,
as Dr. Geller sketched it. The
court was restive, the judge look-
ed at the ceiling, the jury looked
at Alison. Only Roderick was
politely attentive to Dr. Geller.

T^VERYONE knew at once
*- J when the lull was over. If

anyone missed Roderick's ques-
tion, no one missed the doctor's
answer: " — reasonably establish-
ed that androids cannot repro-
duce. At first there was actually
some fear that they might. It
was thought that the offspring of
android and human would be
some kind of monster. But repro-
duction did not occur."

"Just one more point, Doctor/'
said Roderick easily. "There is,

some method of
- some means of
telling human from android, and
vice versa?"

"There are
doctor. Some

I understand,
identification

two," replied the
of the people in

court looked up, interested.

Others made their indifference
obvious to show that they knew
what was coming. "The first is
the fingerprint system. It is just
as applicable to androids as to
humans, and every android at
every creche is fingerprinted. If
for any reason it becomes neces-
sary to identify a person ^who
may or may not be android^
prints are taken. Once these have
been sent to every main android
center in the world — a process
which takes only two weeks — the
person is either positively iden-
tified as android or by elimina-
tion is known to be human."

"There is no possibility of er-
ror?"

"There is always the possi-
bility of error. The system is per-
fect, but to err is human — and,
if I may be permitted the pleas-
antry, android as well."

"Quite," said Roderick. "But

may we take it that the possi-
bility of error in this case is
small?"

"You may. As for the other
method of identification: this is
a relic of the early days of an-
droid manufacture and many of

us feel but that is not ger-
mane."

For the first time, however, he
looked somewhat uncomfortable
as he went on: "Androids, of
course, are not born. There is no
umbilical cord. The navel is

MAD E IN U. S. A

small, even and symmetrical,
and faintly but quite clearly
marked inside it are the words—
in this country, at any rate

'Made in UAA/ W

A wave of sniggers ran round
the court. The doctor flushed
faintly. There were jokes about
the little stamp that all androids
carried. Once there had been po-
litical cartoons with the label as
the motif. The point of one al-
legedly funny story came when

it was discovered that a legend
which was expected to be 'Made

in U.S.A.' turned out to be 'Fab-

rique en France* instead.

T had always been something

humans could jibe about, the
stamp that every android would
carry on his body to his grave.
Twenty years ago, all persecu-
tion of androids was over, sup-
posedly, and androids were free
and accepted and had all but the
same rights as humans. Yet
twenty years ago, women's even-
ing dress invariably revealed the
navel, whatever else was chastely
concealed. Human girls flaunted
the fact that they were human.
Android girls either meekly
showed the proof or, by hiding
it, admitted they were android.

"There is under review," said
the doctor, "a proposal to dis-
continue what some people feel
must always be a badge of sub-
servience

"That is sub judice" inter-
rupted the judge, "and no part

of the matter in question. We
are concerned with things as they
are." He looked inquiringly at
Roderick. "Have you finished

with the witness?"

"Not only the witness," said
Roderick, "but my case." He
looked so pleased with himself
that Alison, who was difficult to
anger, wanted to hit him. "You
have heard Dr. Geller's evidence.
I demand that Alison submit
herself to the two tests he men-
tioned. When it is established
that she is an android, it will
also be established that she can-
not have a child. And that she

therefore, by concealing her an-
droid status from me, also con-
cealed the fact that she could not
have a child."

The judge nodded somewhat
reluctantly. He looked over his
glasses at Alison without much
hope. It would be a pity if such
a promising case were allowed

to fizzle out so soon and so
trivially. But he personally could
see nothing significant that Ali-
son could offer in rebuttal.

"Your witness," said Roderick,
with a gesture that called for a
kick in the teeth, or so Alison

thought.

"Thank you," she said sweetly.

She rose from her seat and crossed

the floor. She wore a plain gray
suit with a vivid yellow blouse,

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

only a little of it visible, supply-
ing the necessary touch of color.
She had never looked better in
her life and she knew it.

Roderick looked as though he
were losing the iron control
which he had held for so long
1 1 gainst all her expectations, and
.he did what she could to help
by wriggling her skirt straight in
the way he had always found so

attractive.

"Stop that!" he hissed at her.
"This is serious."

She merely showed him twen-
ty-eight of her perfect teeth, and
then turned to Dr. Geller.

VII

««

WAS most interested in a
phrase you used, Doctor,"
id Alison. "You said it was

'reasonably established* that an-
droids could not reproduce. Now

I take it I have the facts cor-

You are director of the

Everton Creche?"

»»

"And your professional experi-
ence is therefore confined to an-
droids up to the age of ten?"

"Yes."

"Is it usual for even humans,"
asked Alison, "to reproduce be-
fore the age of ten?"

There was stunned silence,
then a laugh, then applause.
"This is not a radio show,"
shouted the judge. "Proceed,

if you please, Mrs. Liffcom."

Alison did. Dr. Geller was the
right man to come to for all
matters relating to young an-
droids, she said apologetically,
but for matters relating to adult
androids (no offense to Dr. Gel-
ler intended, of course), she
proposed to call Dr. Smith.

Roderick interrupted. He was
perfectly prepared to hear Ali-
son's case, but hadn't they better
conclude his first? Was Alison
prepared to submit herself to the
two tests mentioned?

"It's unnecessary," said Ali-
son. "I am an android. I am not
denying it."

"Nevertheless — " said Roder-
ick.

"I don't quite understand, Mr.
Liffcom," the judge put in. "If
there were any doubt, yes. But
Mrs. Liffcom is not claiming that
she is not an android."

I want to know."

sensation" again.

"Do you think there is any
doubt?"

"I only wish there were."

It was

"And yet it's all perfectly nat-
ural, when you consider it," said
Roderick, when he could be
heard. "I want a divorce because
Alison is an android and can't
have a child. If she's been mis-
taken, or has been playing some
game, or whatever it might be,
I don't want a divorce. I want
Alison, the girl I married. Surely

MADE IN U.S.A.

that's easy enough to under- ever
stand?"

most of my patients have
been android." '

"All right," said Alison emo-
tionlessly. "It'll take some time
to check my fingerprints, but the
other test, can be made now.
What do I do, Judge, peel here
in front of everybody?"

"Great Scott, no!"

Five minutes later, in the jury
room, the judge, the jury and
Roderick examined the proof.
Alison surrendered none of her
dignity or self-possession while
showing it to them.

There was no doubt. The mark
of the android was perfectly
clear.

Roderick was last to look.
When he had examined the
brand, his eyes met Alison's, and

she had to fight back the tears.

For he wasn't satisfied or angry,
only sorry.

T1ACK in court, Roderick said
-*-* he waived the fingerprint test.
And Alison called Dr. Smith. He
was older than Dr. Geller, but
bright-eyed and alert. There was

something about him — people
leaned forward as he took the
stand, knowing «somehow that
what he had to say was going to
be worth hearing.

"Following the precedent of
my learned friend," said Alison,
"may I ask you if you are human
or android, Dr. Smith?"

"You may. I am human. How-

"Why is that?

"Because I realized long ago
that androids represented the fu-
ture. Humans are losing the fight.
That being so, I wanted to find
out what the differences between

humans and androids were, or if
there were any at all. If there
were none, so much the better
the human race wasn't going to
die out, after all."

"But of course," said Alison
casually, yet somehow everyone
hung on her words, "there ., was
one essential difference. Human-
ity was becoming sterile, but

androids couldn't reproduce."

"There was no difference,"
said Dr. Smith.

Sometimes an unexpected
statement produces silence, some-
times bedlam. Dr. Smith got both
in turn. .There was the stillness
of shock as he elaborated and
put his meaning beyond doubt.

"Androids can have and have
had children. 9 *

Then the rest was drowned in
a wave of gasps, whispers and
exclamations that swelled in a
few seconds to a roar. The judge
hammered and shouted in vain.

There was anger in the shouts.
There was excitement, anxiety,
incredulity, fear. Either the doc-
tor was lying or he wasn't. If he
was lying, he would suffer for it.
People tricked by such a hoax

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

arc angry, vengeful, people.

If he wasn't lying, everyone
must re -evaluate his whole view
of life. Everyone — human and
android. The old religious ques-
tions would come up again. The
question would be decided of
whether Man, himself becoming
extinct, had actually conquered
life, instead of merely reaching
a compromise with it. It would
cease to matter whether any per-
son was born or made.

There would be no more an-
droids, only human beings. And
Man would be master of creation.

VIII

-A

HE court sat again after a
brief adjournment. The judge
peered at Alison and at Dr.

Smith, who was again on the

stand.

"Mrs. Liff com," he said, "would

you care to take up your ex-
amination at the same point?"
"Certainly," said Alison. She
addressed herself to Dr. Smith.
"You say that androids can have

children?"

This time there was silence
except for the doctor's quiet
voice. "Yes. There is, as may well
be imagined, conflicting evidence
on this. The evidence I propose
to bring forward has frequently
been discredited. The reaction
when I first made this statement
shows why. It is an important

question on which everyone must
have reached some conclusion. .
Possibly one merely believes
what one is told."

As he went on, Alison cast a
glance at Roderick. At first he
was indifferent. He didn't be-
lieve it. Then he showed mild
interest in what the doctor was
saying. Eventually he became so
excited that he could hardly sit

still.

And Alison began to hope

again.

"There is *a psychologist in
court," remarked the doctor
mildly, "who may soon be asking
me questions. I am not a psy-
chologist any more than any other
general practitioner, but before
I mention particular cases, I
must make this point. Every an-
droid grows up knowing he or
she cannot have children. That
is accepted in our civilization.

"I don't think it should be
accepted. I'll tell you why."

No one interrupted him. He
wasn't spectacular, but he wasted

no time.

He mentioned the case of
Betty Gordon Holbein, 178 years
before. No one had heard of
Betty Gordon Holbein. She was
human, said the doctor. Pros-
trate with shock, she testified she
had been raped by an android.
The android concerned was
lynched. In due course, Betty
Holbein had a normal child.

MADE I NL U. S. A

"The records are available to
everyone," said the doctor. "There

was a lot of interest and in-
dignation when the girl was
raped, very little when she had
her child. The suggestion that
she had conceived after the in-
cident was denied, without much
publicity, or belief, for even then

it was known that androids were

barren/'

ODERICK was on his feet.

He looked at the judge, who
nodded.

"Look, are you twisting this
to make a legal case," he de-
manded, "or did this girl — "

"You cannot ask the witness

if he is perjuring himself," re-
marked the judge reprovingly.

"I <£on't give a damn about
perjury!" Roderick exclaimed.
"I just want to know if this is
true!"

It was all very irregular; but
Alison knew he might explode
any moment and swear at the
doctor and the judge. She didn't
want that. So her eyes met his
and she said levelly: "It's true,
Roderick."

Roderick sat down.

"Now to get a true picture,
the doctor continued, "we must
remember that millions of an-
droids were being tested, and
mating among themselves, and
even having irregular liaisons
with humans*— and no conception
took place. Or did it?"

A little over a century ago,
an android girl had been found
in a wood, alive, but only just.
Around her there were marks of
many feet. She had been mu-
tilated. Though she lived, she
was never quite sane after that.

But she also had a child.

Roderick rose again, frowning.
"I don't understand," he said
"If this is true, why is it not
known?"

The judge was going to inter-
vene, but Roderick went on
quickly, "The doctor and I an
professional men. I can ask hin
for a professional opinion, sure
ly? Well, Doctor?"

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

"Because it has always been
possible to disbelieve what one
has decided to disbelieve. In this
case, that nameless woman was
mutilated so that the navel mark
would be removed. There was a
record of her fingerprints as those
of an android. But it was author-
itatively stated that there must
have been a mistake and that,
by having a child, the woman
had thus been proved to be hu-

man.

A century and a half ago,
Winnie — androids had begun to
have at least a first name by this
time — had a child and it was
again decided that this girl, who
had been a laundry maid, must
have been mixed up with an an-
droid while a baby and was in
fact human.

A little dead baby was found
buried in a garden and an an-
droid couple was actually in
court over the matter. But since
they were androids, it could ob-
viously not be their child, and
they were discharged.

Roderick jumped up again.
"If you knew this," he asked Dr.
Smith, "why keep it secret until
now?"

"Five years ago," said the doc-
tor, "I wrote an article on the
subject. I sent it to all the me'di-
cal journals. Eventually one of
the smaller publications printed
it. I had half a dozen letters
from people who were interested.
Then nothing more.

"One must admit," he added,
"that not one of the cases I have
mentioned — as reported at the

MADE IN U.S.A.

time — would be accepted as pos-
itive scientific proof that an-
droids can reproduce. The facts
were recorded for posterity by-
people who didn't believe them.
But

few

"But," said Alison, a
minutes later, when the doctor
had finished giving his evidence,
"in view of this, it can hardly be
stated that I know I cannot have
a child. It may be unlikely; shall
I call more medical evidence to

show how unlikely, conception is
for the average human woman?"

JUDGE Collier said nothing,
so she continued: "The present
position, as anyone concerned
with childbirth would tell you,
is that few marriages produce
children, but those that do pro-
duce a lot. People who can have
children go on doing it, these
days.

"Now I want to introduce a
new point. It is not grounds for
divorce among humans if the wo-
man is barren and is not aware
of it. It is, on the other hand,
if she has had an operation which
makes it impossible for her to
have children and she conceals

the fact."

"I see what you are getting at,"

said the judge, "and it is most
ingenious. Finish it, please."

"Having had no such opera-
tion," said Alison, "and being
able to prove it, I understand

that I can't be held, legally, to
have known that I could never
have children."

"To save reference to case his-
tories," said the judge content-
edly, "I can $ay here and now
that the lady is right. It is for
the jury to decide on the merits
of the case, but Mrs. Liffcom

may be said to have establish-
ed—"

"I demand an adjournment,"
said Roderick.

There was a low murmur that

gradually died out. Roderick and
Alison were both on their feet,
staring at each other across ten
yards of space. The intensity of
their feeling could be felt by
everyone in the courtroom.

"Court adjourned until tomor
row," said the judge hastily.

»*>

ALMOST every newspaper
which mentioned the Liff-
com case committed contempt of

court. Perhaps the feeling was
that no action could be taken
against so many. All the news-
papers went into the rights and
wrongs of the affair as if they
were giving evidence, too. Very
little of the material was pro- or
anti- android. It was, rather, for
or against the evidence brought
up.

Anyone could see, remarked
one newspaper bluntly, that Ali-

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

t )

I J

<»n Liffcom was nobody's fool.
1 1 a woman like that went to
the trouble of defending a suit

f any kind, she would dig up
mething good and play it to
;m<? limit. This was no aspersion
mi the morals or integrity of Mrs.
1 iff com, for whom the newspaper
hud the keenest admiration. All
nhe had to do was cast the faint-
est doubt on the truism that an-
droids could not reproduce. She

had done that.

But that, of course, said the
•a per decisively, didn't mean
i hat an<Jroids could.

Another newspaper took it
from there. Just as good a case,
it remarked, could have been
made out for spiritualism, tele-
pathy, possession, the existence
of werewolves . . . Dr. Smith,
who was undoubtedly sincere,
had been misled by a few mis-
takes. Obviously, when androids
were human in all respects save
one, some humans would be
passed off or mistaken for an-
droids and vice versa. Equally
obviously, the mistake would
only be discovered if and when
conception occurred, as in the
cases quoted by Dr. Smith.

A third paper even offered Ali-
son a point to make in court if
she liked. True enough, Dr.
Smith had shown that such mis-
takes could occur. It was only
necessary for Alison then to

quote these cases and stress the

possibility that the same thing
might have happened to her. If
the proof of android origin was

not proof, the case would col-
lapse.

Other papers, however, took
the . view that there might be
something in the possibility that
androids could reproduce. Why
not? asked one. Androids weren't

bloodless, inferior

One

beings.

could keep things warm by hold-
ing them against the human body

by building a fire. In the
same way, children could be
nurtured in a human body or in
culture tanks. The results were
identical. They must be identical
if one could take them forty
years later, give them rigorous

tests, and tell one from the other
only because the android was
stamped "Made in U.S.A." and
because his fingerprints were on
file.

People had believed androids

could not have children because
they had been told, androids
never had. Now they were told
androids had reproduced. Where

was the difficulty? You believed
you had finished your cigarettes
until you took out the pack and

saw there was one left. What did
you do then — say you had fin-
ished them, therefore that what
looked like a cigarette wasn't,
and throw it away?

And almost all the newspapers,
whatever their general view,

MADE IN U.S.A.

asked the real, fundamental be able to experience again.
question as well.

That artificially niade humans
could conceive was credible, in

"Women always go from the
general to the particular/' Rod-
erick retorted, "I don't mean the

theory. That they could not was question of whether you will

also credible, in theory.

But why one in a million, one
in five million, one in ten mil-
lion? Even present-day humans
could average one fertile mar-

riage in six.

have children. I mean the ques-
tion of whether it's really pos-
sible that you might."

The judge rapped decisively. 4 I

have been too lenient. I insist on
having a certain amount of order
in my own court. Roderick Liff-
com, do you withdraw
suit?"

your

F you have no objections,"
said Roderick politely — de-
termined to be on his best be-

havior, thought Alison — "let's
turn this into a court of inquiry.
Let's say, if you like, that Alison
has successfully defended the

successfully
on the

that she

grounds

can't legally be said to have
known she couldn't have a child.

Forget the divorce. That's not
the point."

"I thought it was," the judge

objected, dazed.

"Anyone can see that what

" said Roderick im-

what Dr. Smith

"What does it matter? Any-
way, if you must follow^that line,
we'd have to have a few straight
questions and answers like
whether Alison still loves me."

The judge gasped.

"Do you?" demanded Roder- |

ick, glaring at Alison. \

Alison felt as if her heart was

going to explode. "If you want a

straight answer," she said,
"Good," said Roderick

satisfaction. '

with

"is

matters now,

patiently,

brought up! Let's get down to

the question of whether there's

any prospect of Alison having a

baby."

"A courtroom is hardly the

place to settle that," murmured
Alison. But she felt the first warm
breath of . a glow of happiness
she had thought she would never you mind taking the stand?"

. "Now we can go on
from there."

He turned to glower at Judge
Collier, who was trying to in-
terrupt.

"Look here," Roderick de T

manded, "are you interested in
getting at the truth?"

"Certainly, but

"So am I. Be quiet, then. I
meant to keep my temper with
you, but you're constantly get-
ting in my hair. Alison, would

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTIO

i t

There was no doubt that Rod-
. k had personality.
With Alison on the stand, he
• tied to the jury. "Fll tell you

it I have in mind," he told
m in friendly fashion. "We all

ider why, if this thing's pos-
it', it's happened so seldom,
i i 1 1 fortunately , to date there

hasn't been any real admission

''t it is possible,, so I didn't

now. I never had a chance to

work on it. Now I have. What I

wnnt to know is, if androids can

I ive children, what prevents
tiu m from doing so."

He reached out absently, with-
ut looking around, and squeezed
Alison's shoulder. "We've got Ali-
son here," Roderick went on.
"Let's find out if we can, shall

wc\ what would stop her from

having children?"

Alison was glad she was sitting
down. Her knees felt so weak

that she knew they wouldn't sup-
port her. Did she have Roderick
back or didn't she? Could she
really have a baby? Roderick's
baby? The court swam dizzily in
front of her eyes.

Only gradually did she become
aware of Roderick's voice asking
anxiously if she was all right,
Roderick bending over her, Rod-
erick's arm behind her back, sup-
porting her.

"Yes," she said faintly. "I'm
sorry. Roderick, I'll help you all
I can, but do you think there's

really very much chance?"
"I'm a psychologist," he re-
minded her quietly, "and since
you've never seen me at work,
there's no harm in telling you I'm

pretty good. Maybe we won't

work this out here in half an
hour, but we'll get through it in
the next sixty years."

Alison didn't forget where she

was, but everything was so crazy
that a little more wouldn't hurt.
She reached up and drew his
lips down to hers.

"WfHAT I'm locking for must

▼* be in the life of every an-
droid, male and female," said
Roderick. "I don't expect to find

it right away. Just tell us, Alison,

about any times when you were
aware of distinction — when you
were made aware that you were
an android, not a human. Start
as early as you like.

"And," he added with a sud-

den, unexpected grin, "please ad-
dress your remarks to the judge.
Let's keep this as impersonal as
we can."

Alison composed her mind for
the job. She didn't really want
to look back. She wanted to look
into the new, marvelous future.
But she forced herself to begin.

"I grew up in the New York

Android Creche," she said.
"There was no distinction there.

MADE IN U.S.A.

Setae of the children thought
there was. Sometimes I- heard
older children talking about how
much better off they would be
if they were humans. But twice
when there was overcrowding in
the creche and plenty of room

at the orphanage for human chil-
dren, I was moved to the orphan-
age. And there wafc absolutely no

difference.

"In a creche, it's far more im-
portant to be able to sell your-
self than it ever can be later. If
you're attractive or appealing
enough, someone looking for a
child to adopt will notice you and
you'll have a home and security
and affection. I wasn't attractive
or appealing. I stayed in the
creche until I was nine. I saw so

many couples looking for chil-
dren, always taking away some
child but never me, that I was
sure I would stay there until I
was too old to be adopted and
then have to earn my living,

always on my own.

"Then, one day, one of the
sisters at the creche found me
crying — I forget what I was cry-
ing about — -and told me there was
no need for me to cry about any-

■ i

thing because I had brains and >
"* I was going to be a beauty, and
what more could any girl want?
I looked in the mirror, but I still
seemed the same as ever. She
must have known what she was
talking about, though, for just

a week later, a couple came
and looked around the creche and
picked me."

Alison took a deep breath, and
there was no acting about the
tears in her eyes.

"Nobody who's never experi-
enced it can appreciate what it
is to have a home for the first
time at the age of nine," she
said. "To say I'd have died for
my new parents doesn't tell half
of it. Maybe this is something
that misled Roderick. He knew
that twice a month, at least, I go
and see my folks. He must hav
thought they were my real* par-

ents, so he didn't ask if I was
android."

She looked at Roderick for
the first time since she started

the story. He nodded.

"Go on, Alison," he said quiet-
ly. "You're doing fine."

"This isn't a hard world for
androids," Alison insisted. "It's
only very occasionally . . ."

She stopped, and Roderick had
to prompt her. "Only very occa-
sionally that what?"

But Alison wasn't with him.
She was eleven years back in the

past.

XII

¥■4

ALISON had known all about
that awkward period when
she would cease to be a child and
become a woman. But she had

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

ever quite realized how rapid it
ould be, and how it would seem

ven more rapid, so that it was

vrr before she was ready for it to
tart.

She wasn't sleeping well, but

\\v was so healthy and had such

' serves of strength that it didn't

iow, and for once her adopted

»arents failed her. Though Alison

vould never admit that, it would

uive been so much easier if Su-

an had talked with her, and

Koger, without saying a word,

had indicated in his manner that

lie knew what was going on.

One day she was out walking,
trying to tire herself for sleep
later, and ran into a group of
youths of her own age in the
woods. She knew one of them

slightly, Bob Thomson, and she

knew that their apparent leader,
as tall as a man at fifteen, was
Harry Hewitt. She didn't know
whether any of them were an-
droids or not — the question had
never occurred to her. And it
didn't seem of any immediate in-
terest or importance that she was
an android, either, as she passed

through them and some of them

whistled, and involuntarily, com-
pletely aware of their eyes on
her, she reddened.

She saw Bob Thomson whisper
to Harry Hewitt and Hewitt
burst out: "Android, eh? An-
droid! That's fine!" He stepped
in front of her and barred her

path. "What . a r pretty android,"
he said loudly, playing to his
gallery. "I've seen you before,
but I thought you were just a
girl. Take off your blouse, an-
droid."

There was a startled move-
ment in the group, and someone
nudged Hewitt.

"It's all right," he said. "She's
an android. No real parents, only
people who have taken her in to

pretend they can have kids."

Alison looked from side to side
like a cornered animal.

"Humans can do anything they
like with androids," Hewitt told
his more timorous companions.
"Don't you know that?" He
turned back to Alison. "But we
must be sure she is an android.

Hold her, Butch."

Alison was grasped firmly by
the hips, which had so recently
stopped being boyish and swelled
alarmingly. She kicked and
struggled, her heart threatening
to burst, but Butch, whoever he
was, was strong. Two other boys
held her arms. Carefully, to a
chorus of nervous, excited snig-
gers, Hewitt parted her blouse
and skirt a narrow slit and peered
at her navel.

"Made in U.S.A.," he said with
satisfaction. "It's all right, then."

In contrast to his previous cau-
tious, decorous manner, he tore
the blouse out of her waistband
and ripped it off. Alison's knees

MADE IN U.S. A,

sagged as someone behind her
began to fumble with her bras-

"No, no!" Hewitt exclaimed in
mock horror. "Mustn't do that
until she says you can. Even
androids have rights. Or at least,
if they haven't, we should be
polite and pretend they have.
Android, say we can do whatever
we like with you."

"No!" cried Alison.

"That's too bad. Shift your
grip a bit, Butch."

The rough hands went up
around her ribs, rasping her soft

skin.

Alison struggled and twisted

wildly.

"Keep still," said Hewitt. He
spoke very quietly, but there was
savage joy in his face. Slowly
and carefully, he loosened Ali-
son's belt and eased her skirt and
the white trunks under it down to
the pit of her stomach. Then he
took out a heavy clasp* knife,
opened it and set the point neatly
in the center of her belly. Alison
drew in her stomach; the knife 1
point followed, indenting the

flesh.

"Say we can do whatever we

like with you, android."

The knife pricked deeper. A
tiny drop of crimson came from
under it and ran slowly down to
Alison's skirt. Her nerve broke.

"You can do whatever you like
with me!" she screamed.

ER brassiere came loose and
fluttered to the ground. Hew-
itt's knife cut her belt and her
skirt began to slip over her hips.
Butch' s hands went down to her
waist again, biting into it cruelly.
From behind, a hand tentatively
touched her breast and another
clutched her shoulder. One at a
time, her feet were raised and
the shoes taken off them and
thrown in the bushes.

But someone else had heard
Alison's scream. Long after she
had thought no one would
come, someone did.

"Hell," said Hewitt as one of
his companions shouted and
pointed, "something always spoils
everything. Beat it, boys."

They were gone. Alison clutch-
ed her skirt and looked behind her
thankfully. A man and a woman
were only a few yards from her.
The woman was young and
heavy with child. Humans, both
of them. She opened her mouth
to thank them, to explain, to
weep. .

But they were looking at her
as if she were a crushed beetle

of some kind.

"Android, of course," said the
man disgustedly. "Dirty little
beast."

"Hardly more than a child,"
the woman said, "and already at
this."

"I think I'll give her a good
hiding," the man went on.

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

"Won't do any good, I suppose,

but

Alison burst into tears and
darted among the bushes. She
didn't wait to see whether the
man started after her. Branches
and thorns tore her skin. Her
skirt dropped and tripped her.
She flew headlong, flinched away
from a thorny bush, slammed
hard into a tree-trunk, and waited
on the ground, sick and breath-
less, for the man to beat her. *

Her legs and arms and shoul-
ders were covered with long
scratches and a wiry branch had
lashed her ribs like a whip, leav-
ing a long weal. But that didn't
matter. A twisted root was dig-
ging into her side — that, too,
didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
Why had no one told her she
was an inferior being?. Somehow

she had known; she had always

known. But no one had ever

shown her before.

She realized afterward why the
man and the woman, who must
have seen or guessed what had
really happened, had spoken as
they did. They had, or were go-
ing to have, children. They hated
all androids. Androids were un-
necessary, their enemies, and the
enemies of their children.

But at the time she merely
waited helpless, * incapable of
thought. The man would come
and beat her, Susan and Roger
would turn her away, and she

would never know happiness

again.

XIII

"lVf ^ P arents n ever knew about

J-*A that," said Alison. "I hid

in the bushes until it was dark,

and then went straight home. I

climbed into my bedroom from

the outhouse and pretended later.
I'd been there for hours."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Roderick asked.

Alison shrugged. "It was a
small incident that concerned me
alone. I knew, once I'd had time
to think, that my adopted, par-
ents would be upset and angry,

but not at me. I thought I'd
better keep it to myself. I wasn't

■

hurt and none of it matters when
you look back on it, does it?"

"How about the man who was
going to give you a good hiding?"

"I never saw him again. It was
two years later when I got my
first punishment."

"Just a minute," said Roder-
ick. "You said that even then
you knew you were an inferior
being — you had always known,
but this was the first time any-
one showed you. How had you
known? Who or what had told
you? When? Where?"

Alison tried. They could see
her try. But she had to say: "I
don't know."

"All right," said Roderick, as

MADE IN U.S. A.

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

if it weren't important. "What
was this that happened two years
later?"

"Perhaps I am giving too much
significance to these incidents,"
Alison remarked apologetically.
"Certainly they happened. But
when I say 'two years passed,'
perhaps I'm not making it clear
that in those two years hardly
anything happened, hardly any-
thing was said or done, to remind
me I was an android and not a
human being.

"When I was about sixteen or
seventeen, I suddenly developed
a talent for tennis. I had played
since I was quite young, but just
as front-rank players run in and
out of form, I improved quite un-
expectedly. I joined a new club.
I was picked for an important
match. I was in singles, mixed
and women's doubles. I did well,
but that's not the point.

"After the match, my doubles
partner told me I was wanted in
the locker room. There was

something strange about the way

she told me, but I couldn't place
it. I wondered if I'd broken some
rule, failed to check with some-
one, played in the wrong match,
or forgotten to bow three times
to the cast — you know what these

■

clubs are like."

"No, we don't,"
Collier. "We know
member? Tell us."

Unexpectedly, he rf got an ap-

proving nod from the unpredic

table Roderick.

XIV

said Judge
nothing, re-

ALISON smiled uncertainly as
she followed Veronica. She
wasn't nervous or sensitive as' a
rule; she seldom felt apprehen-
sion. She was curious, naturally,
and even wilder possibilities sug-
gested themselves. Had she been
mistaken for someone else? Had
someone stolen something and
they thought she'd done it? Had
someone inspected her racket and
found it was an inch too wide?
The whole team was waiting in
the locker room. It looked seri-
ous, especially when she saw their
expressions. It still didn't occur
to her that the fact that she was

an android could have anything
to do with it. Only once in her
life had there been any real in-
die at ion^th at in some way an-
droids were inferior beings.

But that was what it was. Bob
Walton, the captain of the team,

said gravely that their opponents,
well beaten, had accused them of
recruiting star androids to help
them.

Alison laughed. "That's a new
one. I've heard some peculiar ex-
cuses. Made them myself, too-
the light was bad, the umpire
was crazy, I had a stone in my
shoe, people were moving about,
the net was too high. But never

MADE IN U.S.A.

'You fielded androids against us.'
Androids are just ordinary peo-
ple — good and bad tennis play-
ers. The open singles champion is
an android, but the number one
woman is human. You know that
as well as I do. Might as well
complain because you're beaten
by tall people, or short people,
or people with long arms.

Everyone had relaxed.

"Sorry, Alison,*' said Walton.
It's just that none of us knew
you wererit an android."

Alison frowned. "What's all

this? I'm an android, sure. I
didn't say so only because no-
body asked me."

"We took it for granted," said
Walton stiffly, "that you would
know ... as, of course, you did.
There are no androids competing
in the Athenian League. We try
to keep one group, at least,
clean."

He looked at the other two men
in the team and inclined his

head. Without a word they left
the room, all three of them.

Alison, left with the other
three girls, one of whom she had
kept out of the team, looked ex-
asperated.

"This is nonsense," she said.
"If you like to run an all-human
league, that's all right as far as
I'm concerned x but you should
put up notices to avoid misun-
derstanding; I didn't know you

were

"Whether you knew or not is
beside the point," said Veronica
coldly — the same Veronica who
had laughed and talked and won
a match with Alison only a few
minutes before. "We're going to
make sure you never forget."

THEY closed in on her. It was
to be a fight, apparently. Ali-
son didn't mind. She jabbed Ver-
onica in the ribs and sent her
gasping across the room. She ex-
pected them to tear her clothes,
thinking it would be conventional
in dealing with android girls. But
it was quite different from the
scene in the bushes. This was
clean and sporting. The men had

left, very properly, and instead of
half a dozen youths with a knife
against a terrified child, it was
only three girls to one.

Alison fought hard, but fair.
She guessed that, if she didn't
fight clean, it would be ammuni-
tion for the android-haters. To do
them justice, the other girls were
clean, too. They didn't mind
hurting her, but they didn't go
for her face, use their nails or
yank her hair.

Alison gave a good account of
herself, but other things being
equal, three will always over-
come one. She was turned on her
face on the floor. One of the girls
sat on her legs and one on her
shoulders while the third beat
the seat of her shorts with a

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

itrmly swung racket.

It was no joke. Alison wouldn't
UHve made a sound if it had

i i

ren far worse, but when they

t her go, she was feeling sorry
lor herself. They left her alone
in the room.

She picked herself up and
• lusted herself off. The floor was

lean and the mirror in one

corner showed that she looked

\\\ right. In fact, she looked con-

iderably better than the three
nirls who had beaten her.

Still angry, she was able
lo grin philosophically at the
thought that she could beat them
all in a beauty contest and at
tennis. She could tell Herself, if
she liked, that they were jealous
of her. It was probably at least
partly true.

Her feelings were hurt, but
there was no other damage. She
could even see their point of
view.

HAT

point

of view?" asked Roderick.

44 Well, they were human and
they were snobs. They'd even
have admitted they were snobs,
if you put the question the right
way. It was a private club

"And it was quite reasonable, ,,
suggested Roderick softly, "that
they should exclude androids,
who are inferior beings."

"No, not quite that," Alison
protested, laughing. "I don't
really believe ..."

She stopped.

"Just sometimes?" Roderick
persisted. "Or just one part of
you, while the other knows quite
well an android is as good as a
human?"

Alison shivered suddenly. "You
know, I have a curious feeling, as

if I were being trapped into
something."

"That's how people always
feel," said Roderick, "just be-
fore they decide they needn't be
terrified any more of spiders or

whatever it was they feared."

The court was very quiet.
There was something about
Roderick's professional compe-
tence and Alison's determination

to cooperate that made any kind
of interruption out of the ques-
tion.

"There's very little more I can
say about this," said Alison. "I
took a job, not because I had to,
but because I wanted to. It was
with an advertising agency. They
knew I was an android. They
paid jne exactly what they paid

When I did well,

anyone

they gave me a raise.

4 'But then I noticed something
— I never got any credit for

anything. When I had an idea,
somehow it was always possible
to give the credit to someone else.
Soon there was a very curious

MADE IN U.S.A.

situation. I held a very junior
position, I had little or no stand-
ing, but I did responsible work
and I was paid well for it.

I went to another agency and
it was quite different. Again, they
knew I was an android, but no
one seemed remotely interested.
When I did well, I was pro-
moted. When I did badly on any
job, my chief swore at me and
called me a fool and an incom-
petent and an empty-headed
glamor girl and a lot of things
I'd rather not repeat here.

"But it never seemed to occur
to him to call me a dirty an-
droid. I don't think he was an
android himself, either.

"I joined a dramatic society,
but again I chose the wrong club.
They didn't mind at all that I
was an android. They didn't keep
me in small parts. But it was
perfectly natural that the threfc
human girls in the cast shouldn't
want to use the same dressing
room as another android girl in
the show and I did. When we
were at small places, she and I
had to change in the wings.

4 'There were scores of other lit-
tle incidents of the same kind.
They multiplied as I grew older
■not because differentiation was
getting worse, but because I was
moving in -higher society. In
places where it's held against you
that you didn't go to Harvard or
Yale, naturally it's a disadvan-

tage if you're an android, besides.

"Then a law was passed and
it was no longer necessary to
admit being an android. I don't
know what the Athenian Tennis
League did about that. I'd come
to Everton then and hardly any-
one knew I was an android. And
the plain fact, despite everything
I've said, is that hardly anyone
cared. There are so many an-
droids, so many humans. You
may find yourself the only an^
droid in a group — or the only
human.

"Then I met Roderick."

''There," said Roderick, "1
think we can stop." He turned t
the judge. "I'm withdrawing my
suit, of course. I think I made
that clear quite a while ago."

He gave Alison his arm. "Come
on, sweetheart, let's go."

THE roar burst out again. It
must have been both one of
the noisiest and one of the quiet-
est trials oh record. The judge,
dignity forgotten, was standing
up, hopping from one foot to
the other in impatience and vexa-
tion.

"You can't go like that!"* he
shrieked. "We haven't finished
. . . we don't know ..."

"I've gone as far as I can
here," said Roderick. He hesi-
tated as the roar grew. "Ail
right," he went on, raising his
voice. "But you don't explain

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

( ■ I

i !

pit- to themselves. Any little

i ks that make them do funny

t tings, or not do normal things,

get them gradually to ex-

'iii to you, and to themselves."

He searched in his pockets and

<d out a key ring. "Go and

viiit in the car, honey," he said,

i iu I told Alison where it was.

iltc went, dazed.

"I'll have to keep the papers
1 1 om her for a day or two," Rod-
« rick went on, almost to himself.
After that, it won't matter." He
"inied his attention to the court.
All right, then, listen. If I'm
' ight, I've found something that's
>ccn under everyone's nose for
wo hundred years and has never
>rcri seen before. I don't say I
ound it in five minutes. I've
icvtx working it out for the last
twenty-four hours, with the help
of quite a few records of android
patients.

"Will you listen?" he yelled as
the excited chatter increased. "I
don't want to tell you this. I
want to go home with Alison.
You've seen her. Wouldn't you
want to?"

The court gradually settled.
"Let's consider human sterility
for a moment," said Roderick.
"As you might imagine, some of
it's medical and some psychologi-
cal. As a psychologist, I've cured
people of so-called barrenness —
arid when I did, of course, it"
wasn't sterility at all, but a neu-

• #

rosis. These people didn't and
.'t have children because, ow-
ing to some unconscious conclu-
sion they've reached, they don't
want them, feel they shouldn't
have them, or are certain they
can't have them.

"But that's only some. Others
come to me and, in consultation
with a specialist in that line, I

find there's nothing psychological
about it whatever.

"I have an idea, now, that all
androids are psychologically ster-
ile. Sterility has eaten into the
cycle of human reproduction but
how should it touch the androids?
If one android can reproduce,
they all can. Unless they, like
these humans I've cured, have
reached unconscious conclusions
to the effect that androids can't
or shouldn't or mustn't have
children.

"And we know they nearly all
have."

IS voice suddenly dropped,
and when Roderick spoke
quietly, he was emphasizing
points and people listened. There

■

was no murmuring now.

"I think if you were to run a
survey and find who now is con-
tinuing to deny — passionately,
honestly, sincerely — ^ that an-
droids can reproduce, you'd find
the most passionate, honest and

androids. If

sincere

looked into the

past, I

you
think

MADE IN U. S. A

find the

thing.

you'd find the same
Wasn't it significant that it had
to be a human doctor who de-
clared publicly that androids
weren't sterile?

Into

android is built

every

the psychological axiom that an
android must be inferior to a
human to survive. That's the an-
swer. Androids don't come to me
to be cured of this because they
don't want to be cured of it.
They know it's essential to them.
With the more aware part of
their brains, they may know ex-
actly the opposite, but that
doesn't count when it comes to

things like this.

"And long ago, without know-
ing it, androids picked on this.
Androids could not be a menace
if they couldn't reproduce. An-
droids would be duly inferior if
they couldn't reproduce. An-
droids would be allowed to exist
if they couldn't reproduce. An-
droids could compete with hu-
mans in other things if . they
couldn't reproduce."

He knew he was right as he
looked around the court. For
once, almost at a glance, it was
possible to tell humans from an-
droids. Half the people in court
were interested, bored, amused,
indifferent, thoughtful— the hu-
mans. The* other half were an-
gry, frightened, ashamed, apa-
thetic, resentful, wildly excited,
or in tears ... for Roderick was

tearing at the very foundation

of their world.

"I have real hopes for Alison,"
he remarked mildly, "because
she brought in Dr. Smith. See
what that means? Not one an-
droid in a thousand could have
done it. She must love me a lot
. . . but that'* none of your

business."

He went the way Alison had
gone. No one tried to stop him
this time. At the door, he paused.

"When the first acknowledged
android children are born," he
observed, "it'll mean that re-
gardless of the trials or disasters
mankind still has to face, the
human race won't die out. Be-
cause ... I think we might all
chew a little on this point . . .
the children of androids can't be
android, can they?"

XVII

ODERICK drove. Alison

usually did when they were
out in a car together, but there
was an unspoken agreement that
Roderick would have to take
charge of almost everything for

a while.

"We both won," she said hap-
pily. "At least, we will have when
little Roderick arrives."

"Do you believe he will?"
asked Roderick, in his profession-
al, neutral tone.

"Not quite. I wonder what you

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

•uud in the court. I suppose I'm
not to try to find out?"

'*Fin4 out if you like. But do
it from yourself. From what's in
vou. I'll help."

"I think," Alison mused, "it
must be something to do with
1 >r. Smith."

"Oh? Why?"

"Because I had the most pe-
-■uliar feeling when I remembered
hearing about him and the idea
'hat androids could have chil-
dren. Like when Hewitt had his
knife in my stomach, only as

J * » m m

She laughed nervously, un-
omfortably. "As if I were hold-
ing it myself, and had to cut
omething out, but couldn't do
it without killing myself. Yet I
had a sort of idea I could cut
it out, if I tried hard enough and

long enough, and not kill my-
self."

Roderick turned the corner in-
to their street. "This is a little
unprofessional," he said, the ex-

hilaration in his voice ill-con-
cealed, "but I don't think it'll do

any harm with you, Alison.

There is going to be a little
Roderick. I didn't decide it. You

decided it. And it won't kill you.
And — God, look at that!"

Cameras clicked like grasshop-
pers as Roderick Liffcom carried
his bride across the threshold.
The photographers hadn't had to
follow them, for they knew where
the Liffcoms were going. Scores
of plates were exposed. The Liff-
coms were news. The name of
Liffcom was known to almost
everyone.

Roderick was big and strong
enough to treat his wife's 115
pounds with contempt, but there
was no contempt in the way he
held her. He carried her as if she
was made of crystal which the
faintest jar would shatter. One
could see at a glance that he
could have carried any girl he
liked over the threshold.

Alison nestled in his arms like
a kitten, eyes half -closed with

rapture, arms about Roderick's
neck. One could see at a glance
she could have been carried over
the threshold by any man she
liked.

As they went in, it was the
beginning of a story. .But let's be
different and call it the end.

J. T. M'lINTOSH

DON'T MISS THE ANNOUNCEMENT . . .

For the biggest, most lucrative and
history of science fiction!

.ON PAGES 96 & 97 . . .

attractive novel contest in the entire

MADE IN U. S. A

By ROBERT SHECKLEY

Illustrated by EMSH

The most dangerous game, said
one writer, is Man. But there

STANTON Frelaine sat at
his desk, trying to look as
busy as an executive should
at nine-thirty in the morning. It
was impossible. He couldn't con-
centrate on the advertisement he

had written the previous night,
couldn't think about business. All

he could do was wait until the

mail came.

He had been waiting for his

notification for two weeks now.
The government was behind
schedule, as usual.

The glass door of his office was
marked Morger and Frelaine,
Clothiers. It opened, and E. J.
Morger walked in, limping slight-
ly from his old gunshot wound.
His shoulders were bent; but at
the age of seventy -three, he
wasn't worrying too much about
his posture.

"Well, Stan?" Morger asked.
"What about that ad?"

Frelaine had joined Morger
sixteen years ago, when he was
twenty-seven. Together they had
built Protec- Clothes into a mil-
lion-dollar concern.

"I suppose you can run it,"
Frelaine said, handing the slip of
paper to Morger. If only the mail
would come earlier, he thought.

" 'Do you own a Protec -
Suit?' " Morger read aloud, hold-
ing the paper close to his eyes.
" 'The finest tailoring in the world
has gone into Morger and Fre-
laine's Protec- Suit, to make it the
leader in men's fashions.'"

Morger cleared his throat and
glanceS at Frelaine. He smiled

and read on.

" 'Protec-Suit is the safest as
well as the smartest. Every Pro-

tec -Suit comes with special built-
in gun pocket, guaranteed not to
bulge. No one will know you are
carrying a gun — except you. The
gun pocket is exceptionally easy
to get at, permitting fast, unhin-
dered draw. Choice of hip or
breast pocket.' Very nice," Mor-
ger commented.

Frelaine nodded morosely.

" 'The Protec-Suit Special has
the fling-out gun pocket, the
greatest modern advance in per-
sonal protection. A touch of the
concealed button throws the gun
into your hand, cocked, safeties
off. Why not drop into the Pro-
tec- Store nearest you? Why not
be safe?*

"That's fine." Morger said.

That's

ad.

fine," Morger
a very nice, dignified
He thought for a moment,
fingering his white mustache.
"Shouldn't you mention that
Protec -Suits come in a variety of
styles, single and double-breast-
ed, one and two button rolls, deep
and shallow flares?"

Right. I forgot."

T7RELAINE took back the

■*• sheet and jotted a note on the
edge of it. Then he stood up,
smoothing his jacket over his
prominent stomach. Frelaine was
forty -three, a little overweight, a
little bald on top. He was an
amiable-looking man with cold

"Relax," Morger said. "It'll

SEVENTH VICTIM

come in today's mail."

Frelaine forced himself to
smile. He felt like pacing the
floor, but instead sat on the edge
of the desk.

"You'd think it was my first
kill," he said, with a deprecating
smile.

"I know how it is," Morger
said. "Before I hung up my gun,
I couldn't sleep for a month, wait-
ing for a notification. I know."

The two men waited. Just as
the silence was becoming unbear-
able, the door opened. A clerk
walked in and deposited the mail
on Frelaine's desk.

Frelaine

around

letters.

and
He

swung
gathered up the
thumbed through them rapidly
and found what he had been
waiting for — the long white en-
velope from ECB, with the offi-
cial government seal on it.

"That's it!" Frelaine said, and
broke into a grin. "That's the
baby!"

"Fine." Morger eyed the en-
velope with interest, but didn't
ask Frelaine to open it. It would
be a breach of etiquette, as well
as a violation in the eyes of the
law. No one was supposed to
know a Victim's name except his
Hunter. "Have a good hunt."

"I expect to," Frelaine re-
plied confidently. His desk was
in order — had been for a week.
He picked up his briefcase.

"A good kill will do

world of good," Morger said, put-
ting his hand lightly on Frelaine's
padded shoulder. "You've been
keyed up."

"I know." Frelaine grinned
again and shook Morger's hand.

"Wish I was a kid again," Mor-
ger said, glancing down at his
crippled leg with wryly humorous
eyes. "Makes me want to pick

(<,

up a gun again.

The old man had been quite a
Hunter in his day. Ten successful
hunts had qualified him for the
exclusive Tens Club. And, of
course, for each hunt Morger had

had to act as Victim, so he had
twenty kills to his credit.

- t

I sure hope my Victim isn't
anyone like you," Frelaine said,

half in jest.

Don't worry about it. What
number will this be?"

"The seventh."

"Lucky seven. Go to it," Mor-
ger said. "We'll get you into the
Tens yet.

Frelaine waved his hand and
started out the door.

Just don't get careless,"
warned Morger. "All it takes is a
single slip and I'll need a new
partner. If you don't mind, I like
the one I've got now."

"I'll be careful," Frelaine
promised.

i i

TNSTEAD

of taking a bus,

you a

Frelaine walked to his apart-
ment. He wanted time to cool

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

off. There was no sense in acting
like a kid on his first kill.

As he walked, Prelaine kept his
eyes strictly to the front. Staring
at anyone was practically asking
for a bullet, if the man happened
to be serving as Victim. Some
Victims shot if you just glanced
at them. Nervous fellows. Fre-
laine prudently looked above the
heads of the people he passed.

Ahead of him was a huge bill-
board, offering J. F. O'Donovan's

services to the public.

"Victims!" the sign proclaimed
in huge red letters. "Why take
chances? Use an O'Donovan ac-
credited Spotter. Let us^ locate
your assigned killer. Pay after

you get him!"

The sign reminded Frelaine.

He would call Morrow as soon as
he reached his apartment.

He crossed the street, quicken-
ing his stride. He could hardly
wait to get home now, to open
the envelope and discover who his
victim was. Would he be clever
or stupid? Rich, like Frelaine's
fourth Victim, or poor, like the
first and second? Would he have
an organized Spotter service, or
try to go it on his own?

The excitement of the chase
was wonderful, coursing through
his veins, quickening his heart-
beat. From a block or so away,
he heard gunfire. Two quick
shots, and then a final one.

laine thought. Good for him.

It was a superb feeling, he told
himself. He was alive again.

T his one-room apartment,

the first thing Frelaine did
was call Ed Morrow, his spotter.
The man worked as a garage at-
tendant between calls.

"Hello, Ed? Frelaine."

"Oh, hi, Mr. Frelaine." He
could see the man's thin, grease-
stained face, grinning flat- lipped
at the telephone.

"I'm going out on one, Ed."

"Good luck, Mr. Frelaine," Ed
Morrow said. "I suppose you'll
want me to stand by?"

"That's right. I don't expect to
be gone more than a week or two.
I'll probably get my notification

of Victim Status within three
months of the kill."

■

"I'll be standing by. Good
hunting, Mr. Frelaine."

"Thanks. So long." He hung
up. It was a wise safety measure
to reserve a first-class

reserve
After his kill, it would
laine's turn as Victim.

spotter.

be Fre-

Then,

once again, Ed Morrow would be
his life insurance.

And what a marvelous spotter
Morrow was! Uneducated — stu-
pid, really. But what an eye for
people! Morrow was a natural.
His pale eyes could tell an out-
of-towner at a glance. He was
diabolically clever at rigging an

Somebody got his man, Fre- ambush. An indispensable man.

SEVENTH VICTIM

Frelaine took out the envelope,
chuckling to himself, remember-
ing some of the tricks Morrow
had turned for the Hunters. Still
smiling, he glanced at the data
inside the envelope.

Janet-Marie Patzig. ,

His Victim was a female!

Frelaine stood up and paced
for a few moments. Then he read
the letter again. Janet-Marie Pat-
zig. No mistake. A girl. Three

photographs were enclosed, her

address, and the usual descriptive
data.

Frelaine frowned. He had never
killed a female.

He hesitated for a moment,
then picked up the telephone and
dialed.

"Emotional Catharsis Bureau,
Information Section," a man's
voice answered. '

"Say, look," Frelaine said. "I
just got my notification and I
pulled a girl. Is that in order?"
He gave the clerk the girl's name.

It's all

the

in order, sir,"
clerk replied after a minute of
checking micro -files. "The girl
registered with the board under
her own free will. The law says
she has the same rights and priv-
ileges as a man."

"Could you tell me how many
kills she has?"

UTf.

I'm sorry, sir. The only in-
formation you're allowed is the
victim's legal status and the de-
scriptive data you have received."

"I see." Frelaine paused.
"Could I draw another?"

"You can refuse the hunt, of
course. That is your legal right.
But you will not be allowed an-
other Victim until you have
served. Do you wish to refuse?"

"Oh, no," Frelaine said hastily.
"I was just wondering. Thank
you

»>

E hung up and sat down in

his largest armchair, loosen-
ing his belt. This required some
thought.

Damn women, he grumbled to
himself, always trying to horn in
on a man's game. Why can't they
stay home?

But they were free citizens, he
reminded himself. Still, it just
didn't .seem feminine.

He knew that, historically

speaking, the Emotional Cathar-
sis Board had been established
for men and men only. The board
had been* formed at the end of
the fourth world war — or sixth,
as some historians counted it.

At that time there had been a
driving need for permanent, last-
ing peace. The reason was prac-
tical, as were the men who
engineered it.

Simply — annihilation was just
around the corner.

In the world wars, weapons
increased in magnitude, efficiency
and exterminating power. Sol-
diers became accustomed to

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

them, less and less reluctant to
use them.

But the saturation point had
been reached. Another war would
truly be the war to end all wars.
There would be no one left to
start another.

So this peace had to last for
all time, but the men who engi-
neered it were practical. They
recognized the tensions and dis-
locations still present, the caul-
drons in which wars are brewed.
They asked themselves why
peace had never lasted in the
past.

"Because men like to fight,"
was their answer.

"Oh, no!" screamed the ideal-
ists.

But the .jnen who engineered
the peace were forced to postu-
late, regretfully, the presence of
a need for violence in a large
percentage of mankind.

Men aren't angels. They. aren't

fiends, either. They are just very
human beings, with a high degree

of combativeness.

With the scientific knowledge
and the power they had at that
moment, the practical men could
have gone a long way toward
breeding this trait out of the race.
Many thought this was the an-
swer.

The practical men didn't. They
recognized the validity of compe-
tition, love of battle, strength in
the face of overwhelming odds.

These, they felt, were admirable
traits for a race, and insurance
toward its " perpetuity. Without
them, the race would be bound to
retrogress.

The tendency toward violence,
they found, was inextricably

linked with ingenuity, flexibility,

drive.

The problem, then: To arrange
a peace that would last after they
were gone. To stop the race from

destroying itself, without remov-
ing the responsible traits. „

The way to do this, they de-
cided, was to rechannel Man's
violence.

Provide him with an outlet,
an expression.

The first big step was the le-
galization of gladiatorial events,
complete with blood and thunder.

But more was needed. Sublima-
tions worked only up to a point.
Then people demanded the real
thing.

There is no substitute for mur-

der.

r 1

CJO murder was legalized, on a

^strictly individual basis, and
only for those who wanted it.
The governments were directed

to create Emotional Catharsis

Boards.

After a period of experimenta-
tion, uniform rules were adopted.

Anyone who -wanted to mur-
der could sign up at the ECB.
Giving certain data and assur-

SEVENTH VICTIM

ances, he would be granted a

Victim.

Anyone who signed up to mur-
der, under the government rules,
had to take his turn a few months
later as Victim — if he survived.

That, in essence, was the setup.

The individual could commit as
many murders as he wanted. But
between each, he had to be a Vic-
tim. If he successfully killed his
Hunter, he could stop, or sign up
for another murder.

At the end of ten years, an

estimated third of the world's
civilized population had applied
for at least one murder. The
number slid to a fourth, and
stayed there.

Philosophers shook their heads,
but the practical men were satis-
fied. War was where it belonged
— in the hands of the individual.

Of course, there were ramifica-
tions to the game, and elabora-
tions. Once its existence had been
accepted it became big business.
There were services for Victim
and Hunter alike.

The Emotional Catharsis Board
picked the Victims' names at ran-
dom. A Hunter was allowed six
months in which to make his kill.
This had to be done by his own
ingenuity, unaided. He was given
the name of his Victim, address
and description, and allowed to
use a standard caliber pistol. He
could wear no armor of any sort.

_ *

The Victim was notified a week

Hunter. He
choice of

his
He

before the Hunter. He was told
only that he was a Victim,
did not know the name of his

was allowed
armor, however,
could hire spotters. A spotter
couldn't kill; only Victim and
Hunter could do that. But he
could detect a stranger in town,
or ferret out a nervous gunman.

The Victim could arrange any
kind of ambush in his power to
kill the Hunter.

There were stiff penalties for
killing or wounding the wrong

man, for no other murder was
allowed. Grudge killings and
gain killings were punishable by
death.

The beauty of the system was
that the people who. wanted to
kill could do so. Those who didn't

the bulk of the population

didn't have to.

At least, there weren't any more
big wars. Not even the immi-
nence of one.

Just hundreds of thousands of
small ones.

T^RELAINE didn't especially

**■ like the idea of killing a wo-
man^; but she had signed up. It
wasn't his fault. And he wasn't
going to lose out on his seventh

hunt.

He spent the rest of the morn-
ing memorizing the data on his
Victim, then filed the letter.

Janet Patzig lived in New

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

York. That was good. He enjoyed

hunting in a big city, and he had
always wanted to see New York.
Her age wasn't given, but to
judge from her photographs, she
was in her early twenties.

Frelaine phoned for -jet reser-
vations to New York, then took
a shower. He dressed with care

in a new Protec-Suit Special
made for the occasion. From his
collection he selected a gun,
cleaned and oiled it, and fitted it
into the fling-out pocket of the
suit. Then he packed his suit-
case.

A pulse of excitement was
pounding in his veins. Strange,
he thought, how each killing was
a new excitement. It was some-
thing you just didn't tire of, the

way you did of French pastry or
women or drinking or anything
else. It was always new and dif-
ferent.

Finally, he looked over his
books to see which he would take.

His library contained all the
good books on the subject. He
wouldn't need any of his Victim
books, like L. Fred Tracy's Tac-
tics for the Victim, with its insis-
tence on a rigidly controlled
environment, or Dr. Frisch's
Don't Think Like a Victim!

He would be very interested in
those in a few months, when he
was a Victim again. Now he
wanted hunting books.

Tactics for Hunting Humans

was the standard and definitive
work, but he had it almost mem-
orized. Development of the Am-
bush was not adapted to his

■ w

present needs.

He chose Hunting in Cities, by
Mitwell and Clark, Spotting the
Spotter, by Algreen, and The

Victim's Ingroup, by the same
author.

Everything was in order. He
left a note for the milkman,

locked his apartment and took a
cab to the airport.

N New York, he checked into

a hotel in the midtown area,
not too far from his Victim's
address. The clerks were smiling
and attentive, which bothered
Frelaine. He didn't like to be

recognized so easily as an out-
of-town killer.

The first thing he saw in his
room was a pamphlet on his bed-
table. How to Get the Most out
of your Emotional Catharsis, it
was called, with the compliments
of the management. Frelaine
smiled and thumbed through it.

Since it was his first visit to
New York, Frelaine spent the
afternoon just walking the

streets in his Victim's neighbor-
hood. After that, he wandered

through a few stores.

Martinson and Black was a

fascinating place. He went
through their Hunter - Hunted
room. There were lightweight

SEVENTH VICTIM

bulletproof vests for Victims, and
Richard Arlington hats, with bul-
letproof crowns.

On one side was a large dis-
play of a new .38 caliber side-
arm.

"Use the Malvern Strait-shot!"
the ad proclaimed. "ECB-ap-
proved. Carries a load of twelve
shots. Tested deviation less than

.001 inch per 1000 feet. Don't
miss your Victim! Don't risk
your life without the best! Be
safe with Malvern!"

Frelaine smiled. The ad was
good, and the small black weap-
on looked ultimately efficient.
But he was satisfied with the one
he had.

There was a special sale on
trick canes, with concealed four-
shot magazine, promising safety
and concealment. As a young
man, Frelaine had gone in heavily
for novelties. But now he knew
that the old-fashioned ways were
usually the best.

Outside the store, four men
from the Department of Sanita-
tion were carting away a freshly
killed corpse. Frelaine regretted
missing the kill.

He ate dinner in a~ good res-
taurant and went to bed early.

Tomorrow he had a lot to do.

The next day, with the face
of his Victim before him, Fre-
laine walked through her neigh-
borhood. He didn't look closely
at anyone. Instead, he moved

rapidly, as though he were really
going somewhere, the way an old
Hunter should walk.

passed several bars and

dropped into one for a drink.

Then he went on, down a side

street off Lexington Avenue.

There was a pleasant sidewalk

cafe there. Frelaine walked past
it.

And there she was! He could
never mistake the face. It was
Janet Patzig, seated at a table,
staring into & drink. She didn't
look up as he passed.

Tj^RELAINE walked to the end

*■ of the block. He turned the
corner and stopped, hands trem-
bling.

Was the girl crazy, exposing
herself in the open? Did she think
she had a charmed life?

He hailed a taxi and had the
man drive around the block.
Sure enough, she was just sitting
there, Frelaine took a careful
look.

She seemed younger than her
pictures, but he couldn't be sure.
He would guess her to be not
much over twenty. Her dark
hair was parted in the middle
and combed above her ears, giv-
ing her a nunlike appearance.
Her expression, as far as Frelaine
could tell, was one of resigned
sadness.

Wasn't she even going to make
an attempt to defend herself?

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

Frelaine paid the driver and
hurried to a drugstore. Finding
a vacant telephone booth, he
called ECB.

"Are you sure that a Victim
named Janet-Marie Patzig has

been notified?"

"Hold on, sir." Frelaine tapped

on the door while the clerk looked

up the information. "Yes, sir. We

have her personal confirmation.

Is there anything wrong, sir?"

"No," Frelaine said. "Just
wanted to check/*

After all, it was no one's busi-
ness if the girl didn't want to

defend herself.

He was still entitled to kill

her.

It was his turn.

He postponed it for that day,

however, and went to a movie.

After dinner, he returned to his
room and read the ECB pam-
phlet. Then he lay on his bed and

glared at the ceiling.

All he had to do was pump a
bullet into her. Just ride by in a
cab and kill her.

She was being a very bad sport
about it, he decided resentfully,
and went to sleep.

npHE next afternoon, Frelaine
-*- walked by the cafe again. The

girl was back, sitting at the same

table. Frelaine caught a cab.

"Drive around the block very
slowly;" he told the driver.
"Sure,"

ning with sardonic wisdom.
From the cab, Frelaine watched

for spotters. As far as he could

tell, the girl had none. Both her
hands were in sight upon the
table.

/in easy, stationary target.

Frelaine touched the button of
his double-breasted jacket, A fold
flew open and the gun was in
his hand. He broke it open and
checked the cartridges, then

closed it with a snap.

"Slowly, now," he told the
driver.

The taxi crawled by the cafe.
Frelaine took careful aim, cen-
tering the girl in his sights. His
finger tightened, on the trigger.

"Damn it!" he said.

A waiter had passed by the

girl. He didn't want to chance

winging someone else.

"Around the block again," he

told the driver.

The man gave him another
grin and hunched down in his
seat. Frelaine wondered if the
driver would feel so happy if he
knew that Frelaine was gunning
for a woman.

This time there was no waiter
around. The girl was lighting a
cigarette, her mournful face in-
tent on her lighter. Frelaine cen-
tered her in his sights, squarely
above the eyes, and held hip,
breath.

Then he shook his head and

the driver said, grin- put the gun back in his pocket.

SEVENTH VICTIM

The idiotic girl was robbing him
of the full benefit of his catharsis.

He paid the driver and started
to walk.

It's too easy, he told himself.
He was used to a real chase. Most
of the other six kills had been
quite difficult. The Victims had
tried every dodge. One had hired
at least a dozen spotters. But
Frelaine had gotten to them all
by altering his tactics to meet the
situation.

Once he had dressed as a milk-
man, another time as a bill col-
lector. The sixth Victim he had
had to chase through the Sierra
Nevadas. The man had clipped
him, too. But Frelaine had done
better than that.

How could he be proud of this
one? What would the Tens Club
say?

That brought Frelaine up with
a start. He wanted to get into the
club. Even if he passed up this
girl, he would have to defend
himself against a Hunter. Surviv-
ing that, he would still be four

hunts away from membership. At
that rate, he might never get in.

TTE began to pass the

-*•-*- again, then, on impulse, stop-
ped abruptly.

"Hello," he said.

Janet Patzig looked at him out
of sad blue eyes, but said noth-
ing.

"Say, look," he said, sitting

down. "If I'm being fresh, just

tell me and 111 go. I'm an out-of ~

towner. Here on a convention.

And I'd just like someone femi-
nine to talk to. If you'd rather

I didn't

AJW

"I don't care," Janet Patzig
said tonelessly.

"A brandy," Frelaine told the
waiter. Janet Patzig's glass was
still half full.

Frelaine looked at the girl and
he could feel his heart throbbing
against his ribs. This was more
like it — having a drink with your

Victim!

"My name's Stanton Fre-
laine," he said, knowing it didn't

matter.

"Janet."
Janet what?"
Janet Patzig."

"Nice to know you," Frelaine
said, in a perfectly natural voice.
"Are you doing anything tonight,
Janet?"

"I'm probably being killed to-
night," she said quietly.

Frelaine looked at her care-

fully. Did she realize who he was?
For all he knew, she had a gun

leveled at him under the table.

He kept his hand close to the
fling -out button.

Are you a Victim?" he asked.
You guessed it," she said sar-
donically. "If I were you, I'd stay
out of the way. No sense getting
hit by mistake."

Frelaine couldn't understand

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

the girl's calm. Was she a sui-
cide? Perhaps she just didn't
care. Perhaps she wanted to die.

"Haven't you got any spot-
ters?" he asked, with the right
expression of amazement.

"No." She looked at him, full
in the face, and Frelaine saw

something he hadn't noticed be-
fore. ^

She was very lovely.

"I am a bad, bad girl," she
said lightly. "I got the idea I'd
like to commit a murder, so I
signed for ECB. Then— I couldn't
do it."

<<'

t^RELAINE shook his head,

•*- sympathizing with her.

But I'm still in, of course.
Even if I didn't shoot, I still have
to be a Victim."

But why don't you hire some
spotters?" he asked.

on that. This whole thing is
wrong, the whole system. When
I had my Victim in the sights —
when I saw how easily I could
I could

She pulled herself together
quickly.

"Oh, let's forget it," she said,
and smiled.

Frelaine found her smile daz-
zling.

After that, they talked of other
things. Frelaine told her of his
business, and she told him about

New York. She was twenty-two,
an unsuccessful actress.

They had supper together.
When she accepted Frelaine's
invitation to go to the Gladia-
torials, he felt absurdly elated.

He called a cab — he seemed to
be spending his entire time in

New York in cabs — and opened
the door for her. She started in.

moment. It would have been very
easy.

But he held his hand. Just for
the moment, he told himself.

"I couldn't kill anyone," she Frelaine hesitated. He could have
said. "I just couldn't. I don't even pumped a shot into her at that
have a gun."

"You've got a lot of courage,"
Frelaine said, "coming out in the
open this way." Secretly, he was
amazed at her stupidity.

"What can I do?" she asked
listlessly. "You can't hide from a
Hunter. Not a real one. And I
don't have enough money to
make a real disappearance."

"Since it's in your own defense,
I should think—" Frelaine began,
but she interrupted.

"No. I've made up my mind

npHE Gladiatorials were about

**■ the same as those held any-
where else, except that the talent
was a little better. There were the
usual historical events, swords-
men and netmen, duels with saber
and foil.

Most of these, naturally, were
fought to the death.

SEVENTH VICTIM

Then bull fighting, lion fight-
ing and rhino fighting* followed
by the more modern events.
Fights from behind barricades
with bow and arrow. Dueling on
a high wire.

The evening passed pleasantly.

Frelaine escorted the girl home,
the palms of his hands sticky with
sweat. He had never found a wo-
man he liked better. And yet she
was his legitimate kill.

He didn't know what he was
going to do.

She invited him in and they

sat together on the couch. The
girl lighted a cigarette for herself
with a large lighter, then settled
back.

"Are you leaving soon?" she
asked him.

"I suppose so/' Frelaine said.
"The convention is only lasting
another day."

She was silent for a moment.
'Til be son*gr to see you go. Send

roses to my funeral."

They were quiet for a while.
Then Janet went to fix him a
drink. Frelaine eyed her retreat-
ing back. Now was the time. He
placed his hand near the button.

But the moment had passed for
him, irrevocably. He wasn't go-
ing to kill her. You don't kill the
girl you love.

The realization that he loved
her was shocking. He'd come to
kill, not to find a wife.

She came back with the drink

and sat down opposite him, star-

ing at emptiness.

"Janet," he said. "I love you."
She sat, just looking at him.

There were tears in her eyes.
"You can't," she protested

"I'm a Victim. I won't live long

enough to — "

"You won't be killed. I'm your
Hunter."

She stared at him a moment,
then laughed uncertainly.

"Are you going to kill me?" she
asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said.
"I'm going to marry you."

Suddenly she was in his arms.

"Oh, Lord!" she gasped. "The

waiting — I've been so fright-
ened—"

"It's all over," he told her.
"Think what a story it'll make
for our kids. How I came to mur-
der you and left marrying you."

She kissed him, then sat back
and lighted another cigarette.

"Let's start packing," Frelaine
said. "I want—"

"Wait," Janet interrupted.
"You haven't asked if I love you."

"What?"

She was still smiling, and the
cigarette lighter was pointed at
him. In the bottom of it was a
black hole. A hole just large
enough for a .38 caliber bullet.

"Don't kid arpund," he ob-
jected, getting to his feet.

"I'm not being funny, darling,"
she said.

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

N a fraction of a second, Fre-

laine had time to wonder how
he could ever have thought she
was not much over twenty. Look-
ing at her now — really looking at

her — he knew she couldn't be

■

much less than thirty. Every
minute of her strained, tense exist-
ence showed on her face.

"I don't love you, Stanton,"

she said very softly, the cigarette

lighter poised.
Frelaine struggled for breath.

One part of him was able to
realize detachedly what a mar-

velous actress she really was. She
must have known all along.

Frelaine pushed the button,
and the gun was in his hand,
cocked and ready.

The blow that struck him in
the chest knocked him over a
coffee table. The gun fell out of
his hand. Gasping, half -conscious,
he watched her take careful aim
for the coup de grace.

"Now I can join the Tens," he
heard her say elatedly as she
squeezed the trigger.

— ROBERT SHECKLEY

FORECAST

*•

Leading next month's issue is an enchanting— /if era //y enchanting— novel-
la by James E. Gunn; WHEREVER Y&U MAY BE. Since words like "enchant-
ing" change meaning through misuse, let's keep in mind that it does not
mean "darling" or "stunning" or any other Hollywood ism. The story is
verbal, emotional and scientific witchery that will drag you into the action
almost bodily . 1 . wherever you may be!

JUNKYARD by Clifford D. Simak sets you down on a fly-trap of a planet
and challenges you to find your way off it again. Fuel isn't the problem, or
wrecked equipment; or lack of complete and explicit directions. No, it's
something else— junkyards just don't like to give up the things they accumu-
late.

Both these stories are long and strong and loaded with adrenalin, so
there may not be room for another novelet. On the other hand, there may.
We'll see how the isue makes up and cram in, as usual, all the material it
can hold.

You can count on a full complement of short stories heavily armed with
bright ideas, sharply drawn situations and ingenious solutions . . . plus our
regular features (the editorial, for example, is guaranteed to produce both
chuckles and snarls) . . . and, of course, Willy Ley's FOR YOUR INFOR-
MATION, which continues the historically and scientifically important BIRTH
OF THE SPACE STATION.

SEVENTH VICTIM

■:■_►

8 *£0b

*l ■*_ to- :■_■ .■<■- ■* -Si****.-:.-- v

Information

By WILLY LEY

THE BIRTH OF THE
SPACE STATION

MOST ideas which finally
took the shape of an in-
vention have a long and
usually complicated history. Talk
about the submarine and you
can, without straining, find doz-
ens of examples of early thinking
or dreaming about underwater
travel.

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

The amount of early material German doctor discovered an old-

on flying is almost overwhelm-
ing.

Even such a relatively simple
machine as the typewriter can
boast a lot of background — I re-
member the amazement with
which I read a publication of the
Society of German Engineers

er book, dating back about a
quarter-century prior to the ac-
tual discovery, in which the au-
thor writing under the heading of
Medical Fairy Tales had said,
"We'll make the patient as trans-
parent as a jelly-fish," and this
was duly noted as the only "pre-

(VDI) some twenty years ago, diction" of the X-ray
for which a diligent researcher

had collected dozens of century-
old typewriters. Not just reports,

ITpHE concept of the space sta-
•*- tion is such an exception, too.

but pictures of them and even a While the idea of space travel has
number of originals. Moreover, a two-thousand-year history, the

he had covered only the German-

Speaking countries of Europe,
Small wonder that nobody ever

idea of the space station has vir-
tually none. It appeared for the
first time in 1897 in Kurd Lass-

succeeded in writing a complete witz' famous novel On Two Plan-

and reliable History of All In-
ventions, although there are at

least a dozen books which bear
some such title.

However, there are exceptions.
The "idea" of photography, prior
to the first picture actually taken,
seems to have been only a few
years old. As for earlier prophecy,
there is just one old French sci-
ence fiction novel in which some-
thing resembling

was forecast.

ets, and it was introduced as a
technological concept in 1923 in
Prof. Herman Oberth's first sci-
entitle work on space travel by
means of liquid fuel rockets.
There is nothing between these
two dates which may be said to
have contributed to the concept.
True, old Herman Ganswindt
told me that he had thought of
space stations around 1880, when

photography he toyed with the idea of reac-
tion-propelled ships. Even if he
remembered his youthful ideas

Another exception is the X-ray.
It did not have any earlier "his- correctly after so many years, he

tory" at all. Dr. Konrad Rdntgen
discovered X-rays almost acci-
dentally, immediately realized
their" value for surgery — especial-
ly military and industrial surgery
— and that was that. Later, some

had not influenced anybody. At
any event, he could not show me
any documentation to prove he
had mentioned the idea in public.
Nor can I bring myself to con-
sider a certain French science fie-

FOR YOUR INFORMATION

tion novel
old

now half a century
as a contribution to th^ idea,

even though the theme consisted
in putting something in an orbit
around the Earth a few thousand
miles away.

This novel, Selena Cie, was
based upon the notion that peo-
ple could save money ordinarily
spent for the illumination of cities
and roads if only the Moon were
not 240,000 miles away, but cir-
cled the Earth at an altitude of

3000

or 4000 miles. (That
would spend a lot of time in the
Earth's shadow when at such a
short distance, which would elim-
inate it as a source of illumina-
tion, was nowhere mentioned.)
The story relates that a mountain
of pure iron is discovered in
French Equatorial Africa which,
wound with cables, makes an
enormous and powerful magnet.

Why this should pull the Moon
closer is incomprehensible, but in
the story it did. The outcome was

less than satisfactory — the Moon
wins and pulls the iron mountain
clean out of the African soil.

The concept of the space sta-
tion thus originated in just two
places: first in a novel and then
in a scientific book. It has to be
mentioned* however, that Kurd

Lasswitz, the author of the novel,
was a scientist himself, specifical-

ly an astronomer and professor
of mathematics. The space sta-
tion he thought up for his novel

is so unique that it has never been
imitated by any other writer,
simply because it would have
been such an obvious imitation.
When Lasswitz wrote the book
(during the years 1895-97), it was
more or less generally accepted
in astronomical circles that the
planet Mars is inhabited by in-
telligent beings. Other theoretical
reasoning had it that the planets

were the older the farther they
were from the Sun. Mars, as an
older planet, had provided the
proper conditions for the origin
of life at an earlier date, so in-
telligent life had also appeared

much earlier than here. Hence the

intelligent Martians should be far
ahead of us in every respect.

ASSWITZ drew from this the

conclusion that, if space
travel were possible at all, the
Martians would come to us long
before we could go to them. In
order to explain the delay (for

they might just as well have
arrived during the reign of Nabo-
polassar of Babylon or of Augus-
tus Caesar), Lasswitz made the
problem of space travel appear

much more difficult than it actu-
ally is. And he made the solution
of the problem such that it could
not be solved on Earth.

On Mars, he postulated, there
is a substance which happens to
be transparent as glass, but which
has the far more important prop-

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

erty that it can also be made
"transparent" to gravity. Lass-
witz got around a few important
theoretical difficulties by saying
that the energy of gravity did not
appear as gravity in treated ma-
terial* but "in other forms of en-

He also was careful to point

got his idea for cavorite for his
story The First Men in the
Moon.) But then reaction pro-
pulsion is added to the ships and
the safety of trips and the dura-
tion are improved enormously.

Still, a takeoff has to be made
from the poles of the planet,
where there is no rotation to in-

cut that just as glass cannot be terfere. It is still better not to

made completely transparent to take off from the surface at all,

light, this substance could not be but from a space station. For

made completely transparent to Earth, this is an absolute neces-

gravity, but only to a point where sity because the marvelous sub-

the still remaining weight did not* stance of the Martians happens

matter any more. And finally he
made it clear that the substance
retained its inertia.

-y

A takeoff from the planet, un-
der these conditions, would then
proceed as follows ;

The ship, spherical in shape for
structural reasons, would be made
virtually gravity -free. Instead of
following its planet around the

Sun, it would continue in a

to deteriorate in the presence of
water vapor.

Hence the Martians first equip
their planet and then the Earth
with two space stations each,
placed vertically over the poles;
in each case, one planet-radius
from the surface. Travelers come
from a polar installation on the
ground to the space stations by
way of a specialized conveyance

straight line, a tangent to the or- built for just this purpose, and
bit. After waiting long enough, then transfer to the true space-
the planet would have receded ships.

far enough so that its gravita-
tional field hardly influenced the
ship, even if susceptibility to
gravity were restored. But the

In appearance, the space sta-
tions resemble the planet Saturn
sliced in half in the plane of its
rings. There is a hemispherical

Sun would then influence the ship main dome which has eight cut-

and, by diligent and precalculat-
ed maneuvering in the gravita-
tional fields, the ship could go
from one planet to another, in a
tedious and dangerous voyage*

outs for the ships to berth in,
with ring-shaped galleries around.
The whole can be rotated around
its vertical axis so that the sta-
tion can be turned in such a man-

Wells ner that no part of its structure

FOR YOUR INFORMATION

will interfere with a departing or
an incoming ship.

Of course, nothing that is not
made of this substance from Mars
could be made to stay in place
without moving over one of the
poles. But aside from this, you
might have noticed the first ap-
pearance of a number of very
"modern" ideas; for example, the
need for a specialized vehicle, ca-
pable of penetrating the atmos-
phere, for the trip from the
ground to the station, while the
spaceships proper never enter an
atmosphere and are, in fact, in-
capable of doing it.

OW for the appearance of the

space station concept in sci-
ence. As has been mentioned, the

idea was introduced by Professor
Hermann Oberth in 1923 in the
first edition of his book Die Ra-
kete zu den Planetenraumen ("A
Rocket into Interplanetary
Space"). Even there it cropped
up very much as an afterthought,

on pages 86-88, which are the last
pages of the last chapter. -

In that last chapter, Prof.
Oberth, after having investigated

mathematically the characteris-
tics of liquid fuel rockets and dis-
cussed possible design features ,
spoke about likely applications of
large-size liquid, fuel rockets. He
had only two in mind at the time,
one a high altitude research rock-
et — virtually what we now actu-

ally have with the rocket Aerobee
and one a man-carrying rocket
ship for flights into space in the
vicinity of Earth. Then he threw
out a few estimates to indicate
the general order of size which
such rockets would have.

He estimated, for example, that
a rocket ship for flights up to
about 1000 miles with a pilot only
would have a takeoff weight of
300 metric tons and that the
rocket ship built for two men
would need a takeoff weight of at
least 400 metric tons. After that
he started a new paragraph, writ-
ing (I am now translating from
the original book):

"If we force such large -size
rockets to circle the Earth, the
rocket will behave like a small
moon. Such rockets do not even
have to be designed for landing.
Contact between them and the
Earth can be maintained by
means of smaller rockets so that
the large ones (let's call them
observing stations) can be rebuilt
in the orbit the better to suit
their real purpose. If the con-
tinuing state of apparent weight-
lessness should have undesirable
consequences, which, however, I
doubt, one could connect two
such rockets by wire ropes a few
kilometers long and make them
rotate around each other."

Here you have the whole con-
cept in a few sentences: The
rocket which stays in space and

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

which is gradually changed
iiround to such an extent that it
cannot even land, anymore; the
smaller transport rockets; the
idea of substituting centrifugal
ticcelefation for gravity, if needed.
Then he went on to outline a few
possible uses:

"With their powerful instru-
ments, they would be able to see
fine detail on Earth and could
communicate by means of mir-
rors reflecting sunlight. [Remem-
ber that this was written about
1921, when radio was very much
in its infancy. — W.L. ] This might
be useful for communication with
places on the ground which have
no cable connections and which
cannot be reached by electric
waves. Since, they, provided the

the catas-

and warn ships ...
trophe of the Titanic in

would have been avoided by such

1912

means

ND then Oberth added anoth-
er completely new idea which
had not been voiced before any-
where.

"All this," he wrote, "amounts
to. practical advantages. But an
even greater advantage could be
gained in the following manner:
one could spread a large circular
wire net simply by rotating it
around its center. Small plane
metal mirrors could be fitted into
the spaces between the wires and
their position relative to the wire
* net could be controlled electrical-
ly from the station. The mirror
as a whole should rotate around
the Earth in a plane which forms
a right angle with the plane of
the Earth's orbit. The wire net
would be inclined to the direction
of the Sun's rays by 45°. By
proper adjustment of the posi-
tions of the single facets, one
could* either concentrate the re-
flected sunlight on specific points
of the ground or could diffuse
it over large areas, or, if not need-
ed, make the whole beam miss
the Earth.

If, for example, the mirror is
1000 kilometers (600 miles) dis-
tant, the image of the Sun from
each facet would have a diameter
time] would notice every iceberg of 10 kilometers; if they are made

sky is clear, could see a candle
at night and the reflection from
a hand mirror by day, provided

■ k

only that they know where and
when to look, they could main-
tain communications between ex-
peditions and their homeland,
colonies and their motherland,
ships at sea, etc. . . .

"The strategic value is obvious
especially in the case of war in
areas of low population density;
they might either belong to one
of the two countries at war or

sell their services at high
to one of the combatants . .

rates
. The

station fat this point the term
"station" is used for the first

FOR YOUR INFORMATION

to coincide, the energy would be
concentrated in an area of 78
square kilometers. Since the mir-
ror can have any size desired, it
could have colossal effects. It
would be possible, for example,
to keep the shipping lane to Spits-
bergen and the North Siberian
ports ice -free by such concen-
trated sunlight.

If the diameter of the mirror
is 100 kilometers, it could make
large areas in the North habita-
ble by means of diffused sunlight.
In the middle latitudes, it could
prevent sudden drops in temper-
ature in Spring and Fall and save
the fruit and vegetable crops of
whole countries. It is especially
important that the mirror is. not
stationary over any one point of
Earth and is therefore capable
of rendering all these services . . ."

After a discussion .of the most
suitable material for the mirror
(Oberth believed sodium metal
would be best), and the estimated
costs (far too low), he continued:

"The observing station could
also be a refueling station. If the
hydrogen and oxyge^ [the fuels
Oberth had in mind] are shielded
against solar radiation, they'll
keep for any length of time in the
solid state. A rocket which is
refueled at the station is no longer
hampered by ajr resistance and
not much by the Earth's gravi-
tation . . . Furthermore, it no
longer needs a high velocity of

its own. In the first place, the
potential of the Earth is lower
at the distance of the station. In
the second place, the rocket only
needs to make up the difference
between the required final veloci-
ty and the velocity of the station
which is, in round figures, six
kilometers per second.

If we now connect a large
sphere of sodium metal which
was assembled and filled with
fuel in the station's orbit with a
small solidly constructed rocket
which pushes the "fuel sphere"
ahead and draws its fuel from
the sphere, we get a highly effi-
cient apparatus which should be
capable of flying to other
planets."

Oberth's first book stopped at

that point.

Then the concept of the station
in space was adopted by others
who added their own ideas. How
the evolution of the space station
progressed will be discussed here
next month.

—WILLY LEY

ANY QUESTIONS?

/ know of binaries and I know

that there are triple systems of

stars, two stars moving around

each other and one of them a

binary itself. Are there systems

of more stars than three and, if

so, are they stable?

Gloria Quinn

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

2122 Miller St.
{city missing)
If you had mentioned your

city, you would have had your

shows that it is a binary, the
two components about 80 times
farther away from each other
than the earth is from the sun.

answer weeks ago. The answer Then it turned out that each one
fs yes.

One of the ^ examples which
are easily found in the sky is

the star Zeta JJrsae Major is, the
middle star in the "handle" of

the Big Dipper. It is, as you can
easily see, a naked-eye binary.
The Arabic name of the bright-
er star is Mizar and that of the

faint companion is Alkor; the
latter word is said to mean "lit-
tle rider". It was Sir William
Herschel who found that the

larger of this pair was a binary,
the two components of which
are now known to swing around
one another with a period of
1.83 years. Later it was found
that the fainter star is a binary
too, with a period of only four
days. And the smaller binary
moves around the common cen-
ter of gravity with the bigger

one in sixty years.

The most amazing collection
of multiples of binaries can be

found in the constellation which

the ancients called Gemini, the
Twins, because of the two
bright stars Castor and Pollux.
Both are not merely binaries
but multiple systems. Seen with
the naked eye, Castor looks like
a single bright star but even a
comparatively small telescope

of these two white stars is a
binary itself and a faint red-
dish star, not far away, was
found to be a binary, too. So
Castor consists of two white
twins, with periods of three and
nine days, respectively. The
two pairs swing around their
common center of gravity in
340 years. The faint red star,

is, as mentioned, a twin too,
with a period of about 19 hours.
And the red twins move slowly
around the system of the two
bright twins. They haven't been
under observation long enough
to establish their period but it
must be many thousands of
years. — As to your second ques-
tion: to the best of our knowl-
edge these systems are stable.

I recently read in a local paper
that a German clergyman had
iound a city in the sea off the
German coast. He is said to have
expressed his belief that he has
found Plato's Atlantis. Do you
have any opinion about this?

{Name withheld)
Lansing, Minn*

I haven't read this report
even though I receive several

German scientific periodicals.
But I am quite certain that the

FOR YOUR INFORMATION

sunken city which the German
clergyman found is not Plato's
Atlantis— -a remark which may
have heen added hy the news-
paperman who wrote the story.
The mention of Atlantis, no
matter who made it, is prob-
ably just a hangover from those
days when every sunken city,
or suspicion of a sunken city,
was linked with the Platonic di-

alogues. It can be considered
pretty well established by now
that the "model" for Plato's At-
lantis was the city of Tartessos,

the Biblical Tarshish, in west-
ern Spain; the same city which
served as the model for Ho-
mer's Scheria in the Odyssey.
On the other hand I feel rea-
sonably sure that the German

clergyman found something.
Along the northern coast of
Germany there are a number
of remains of what looks like
old roads which seem to lead

straight into the sea. And there
are also quite a number of lo-
cal legends of remains of old

cities and towns at the bottom

of the sea, but generally close
enough to present day land so
that the land is still clearly in
sight from the alleged locations
of the old cities. The legends

have a tendency to exaggerate,
but most of them seem to be
founded on some fact. Often
these former cities — or better^
townships — are generally re-

ferred to as "vinetas," which is
supposed to be the name of the
most famous of them.

Detail is awfully hard to as-
certain. It seems that about a
thousand years ago a number
of old townships were aban-
doned because they had been
established too close to the

shore line. It is even possible

that the sea level rose some-
what as a late result of the melt-
ing of Ice Age glaciers. At any
event the finding of a sunken
settlement off the German coast
is not at all unlikely.

I may add a few words about
the "city" of Vineta, the sup-
posed name of which is some-
times used as a generic name.
.The former existence of that
city is historically well-estab-
lished; it existed during the
tenth and eleventh centuries
and had been built by a Sla-
vonic people, the Venden or
Wenden. But the original name
of the city was Jumne, the ver-
sion Vineta originated by way

of Latinization on the part of
later chroniclers. They first
transliterated JUMNE as IV-
MNETA which soon came to be
written VIMNETA and finally
VINETA. Although nobody
doubted its former existence,
and historians were agreed that
the sea finally conquered mere-
ly an abandoned city destroyed
by war, there was no agree-

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

merit about where it originally

Htood. It was known that lie in-
habitants could reach it from
l he hinterland by travelling
downstream on the Oder River,
hut that still left a compara-
tively large area where it could
have been. Only a quarter cen-
tury ago did historians succeed
in finding a place which was in
full agreement with all the
sources. It happened to be quite
near a small seashore resort
which later became famous.
Name of Peenemiinde.

// there is a layer of hydrogen

in the uppef atmosphere, is there
not danger that one day a rocket
will he Bred high enough to enter
and explode this hydrogen layer?

Raymond Wilkes

Box 114

Greenfield, Missouri

The answer to that one is
"no" and this answer can be

backed up with a number of
good reasons. In the first place
the idea that there is a layer of
pure hydrogen in the upper at-
mosphere (proposed originally
by Svante Arrhenius) has been
dropped. In the second place
even if there were such a layer
it would be enormously attenu-
ated and should properly be

called u a vacuum with occa-
sional hydrogen atoms in it."

But even if there were a layer

isn't) and even if it had a dens-
ity comparable to that at sea
level (which is impossible) it

would still not be ignited by a
rocket's exhaust blast. Igniting
hydrogen means to start com-
bustion which requires oxygen.
Without oxygen the hydrogen
could not explode and in a pure
hydrogen layer there would, of
course, be no oxygen. Finally,
if there were such a layer and
if enough oxygen were present
too, the whole would have been
ignited by meteorites millions
of years ago.

When the distance from one
planet to another is mentioned,
do they measure from the center
of one to center of the other or
do they start measuring from the

edge?

Loren Shaw
12605 S.E. Division
Portland 66, Oregon
All astronomical distances

are center-to-center distances,

not surface-to-surface distances.

This is a fundamental rule but

most of the time it would not
matter much if surface-to-sur-
face distance were used by
somebody by mistake. In the
case of Earth and Moon, the
difference between center-to-
center distance and surface-to-
surface distance is just about
5000 miles. But the center-to-

-i

of pure hydrogen (which there center distance varies itself.

FOR YOUR INFORMATION

from a minimum of 221,460
miles to a maximum of 252,-
700 miles. In the case of Mars
and Earth the difference be-
comes negligible, the difference
between surface-to-surface and
center-to-center distances is on
the order of 6000 miles while
the closest possible distance is

35 million miles.

How does the H-bomb work?

Frank Goodwyn, Jr.
9709 Lorain Avenue
Silver Spring, Md,
This question is a somewhat
large order,*— not even counting
the fact that the classifica-
tions which are probably stamp-
ed on each and every document
pertaining to the H-bomb are
terrifying themselves. But since
this question will probably
come in from numerous read-
ers I'll try to answer it to the
best of my ability. Let's be-
gin with the "old fashioned
A-bomb. This is a "fission
bomb," which means that the
atoms of uranium -2 3 5 or of
plutonium break apart,
two pieces of about equal mass,
releasing energy in the process.
The H-bomb is known to be a
"fusion bomb" in which hydro-
gen atoms are fused together
into heavier atoms, presumably
helium, a process which also
releases energy. This fusion of
hydrogen atoms is the process

which keeps the sun and most
of the other stars visible in the
sky going. In our sun the proc-
ess takes place in six successive
stages which fuse four hydro-
gen atoms into one helium
atom ; a carbon atom is involved
in this process which has been
called the Solar Phoenix Reac-
tion because that hydrogen
atom which initiates the first
step re-appears unchanged at
the end of the sixth step so that
it can start all over again.

The fusion process in the
H-bomb is in all probability
quite different from the Solar
Phoenix Reaction. But it has
to be mentioned first that there
are three kinds of hydrogen
atoms, of three different
weights and the rarer the heav-
ier they are. The first is ordi-
nary hydrogen, the second, of
double the weight, is "heavy hy-
drogen" or Deuterium* The
third, of thrice the weight of
ordinary hydrogen is called Tri-
tium. Ordinarily two "deuter-
ons" would not fuse into one
into helium atom and no "triton"

would consider fusing with a
proton," the nucleus of the
ordinary hydrogen atom. The
nuclei, having like electric
charges, would repel one an-
other if they came too close.
Only if they move very fast can
the energy of movement over-
come the repulsion. It is easy

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

said that the A-bomb is the
fuze

fc6.

to make small material particles
move fast, all one has to do is
to apply heat and thermal mo-
tion will be the result. All this
is not precisely new knowledge,
the main difficulty was to find
a sufficiently intensive heat
source so that the thermal mo-
tion would he violent enough to
do what it was supposed to do.
But the heat required was such
that even an electric arc was icy
cold by comparison. Not even
the surface of our sun is hot
enough for this purpose, one
had to go into stellar interiors
to find places with the requisite
number of degrees of tempera-
ture. Until the A-bomb came
along. The A-bomb does pro-
duce enough heat, even if only

for a fraction of a second. It is

for this reason that it has been reasoning given.

.«

or ^starter 77 for the
H-bomb. The hydrogen in the
H-bomb is probably not ordi-
nary hydrogen; it would be ask-
ing too much to expect four
atoms to have a head-on colli-
sion at precisely the right in-
stant. But one can expect two
deuterons to collide, or a triton
to collide with a proton: Pre-
sumably, then, the hydrogen

part of the H-bomb is a mix-
ture of all three isotopes of hy-
drogen. Obviously there must
be an optimum mixture. Obvi-
ously this optimum mixture is
Top-Top Secret, for good and
sufficient reasons.

All this, of course, is valid
only with the proviso that the
H-bomb is actually based on the

WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?

Science has become so complex and confusing, even to scientists, that
there must be some question you'd like Willy Ley to explain clearly, authori-
tatively and in everyday English.

As you can see for yourself, he's an expert on clarification.

It should also be apparent that he is not a scientific snob— FOR YOUR
INFORMATION is run for the benefit of laymen, not scientists — so there's no
reason to be ashamed to ask any question in his field.

All we request is that you hold your questions down to one or two at
a time (you can always send in more, later) and type or print legibly. Please

add your name and address— we'll withhold them tf you want us to— because
there isn't room to answer all queries in the magazine and every one of the
others is answered by mail.

Now . ... . what was it you wanted to know?

FOR YOUR INFORMATION

:v::-x::wy4ft:-[-A:-:j;*!wX\!> .

<*&&#}\

->:-:

>#:#*:

?«;.-*;-.

:-K":">:*i:-->;'

11%

V-

By PETER PHILLIPS

The greats of Earth's scientists, they had
dozens of excellent reasons for going into
space . . . but they didn't know the real one/

# *

* •

• •

• *

» « *
• • •

• • •

• • *

Illustrated by ASHMAN

Put six small drunken ants in

a twenty-gallon oil drum and
heave it into space somewhere
between Earth and Mars

tape and
The

I SCRUBBED the
started over again,
space concept wasn't to
scale, anyway. Six bacteria in a
seed -spore might be nearer the
mark. I had to convey space,

time and place in a fashion that
the lay public could grasp when
and if we boomeranged home.

It was difficult — impossible,
perhaps — and not made easier by
the noise. M'Bassi had impro-
vised a bongo drum from an
upturned wastebasket and Brocu-
zynski was trying to scramble
onto the desk to do a step -da nee.

Yet I didn't wish to seek si-

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

iliiH

lence in my cabin. The ship was
too vast, the company too small.
Being alone made you feel that
the alien dark might rreep in be-
hind you, reach out with tentacu-
lar fingers

I wanted to join Lao in his
old game of "show- fingers- guess-
sum- guess -wrong- drink another"
which can be conveyed in pre-
cisely two Chinese characters and

UNI VERSI TY

is perhaps the most ancient of all
drinking games.

But I stayed at the transcriber
trying to think back, getting
memories lined up to explain just
why, in this instant of mankind's
greatest adventure, it was neces-
sary for these pioneers to be as

t ■

soaked i« alcohol as a sextet of
brandied peaches.

Sam

Necessary? ut course.
had given the instructions and
impressioning long ag

That phrase seeped up from
my subconscious. It seemed to
mean something, but when I tried

to pin it down for analysis, its
sense -structure disappeared like

a pellet of frozen C0 2 in a hot

hand. It left me with a feeling of

estrangement from the others, the
seventh ant in the oil drum — the
odd ant out.

That's how I'd felt earlier when
these six had been at each others'
throats instead of around each
others' necks.

Six babies. Six damned, squall-
ing selfish babies. Six bouncing,
babbling, but far from bonny
babies.

Five months ago, on Mars, they

had been responsible, well-inte-
grated men, the pick of the na-
tions, esteemed beyond the
borders of their own countries.
The trouble started a "month"
after the Boomerang's strange

drive -had reduced a whole hem-
isphere of that dead planet to
glassy aridity and flicked us out
of the Solar System.

THIRST blowup came between

■*■ Aventos and Brodcuzynski.
Chessmen were scattered over the
messroom floor. When I told
them to quit behaving like kids,
Aventos turned his sneer on me.

"Listen to All-Nations Boy!
Get back to your diary, sonny.
Sold it in advance, haven't you?
The only one who's making
money out of this crazy trip.
That is, if we ever do return."

I went back to my desk. I
tried never to argue, only to
pacify. It became increasingly
difficult to sting any of them into
the realization that they were
mature men of science, not fret-
ful schoolkids on a too -long pic-
nic jaunt.

We couldn't stay alone in our
cabins and we couldn't stay to-
gether in the messroorn. That's
what it came to.

And we couldn't wander alone
in the empty, echoing gangways
and corridors of the mile-long
ship. That was the quickest way
to go psychptic.

Borg sparked the next erup-
tion. The mystery outside had
touched some vein of poetry in
his Scandinavian soul. He stood
by the vision screen one "day"
and started quoting aloud. Very

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

loud — clear and ringing.

It may have been his own

stuff or a translation of one of

the Sagas:

"The sea- devils thunder and mock

our ears
With cries of women and blinded

children;
But we must keep our eyes on the

prow
Where stands Erik the Hairless One

Defying the sea-mountains.

Our lips are sealed with ic

Braithewaite let out a howl
like a factory hooter: "Shut up
you damned Dane! I'm trying
to read!"

"Then go to your cabin. You
don't appreciate good poetry,
you clod of a Yorkshireman."

I managed to grab Braithe-
waite before he made a suicidal

rush at the Borg, who was big
and strong enough to club him to
death with a single fist.

M'Bassi managed to keep out

of quarrels, but his genial face
turned to immobile ebony and
reduced his normally fluent con-
versation to the grunted basics
of his original tongue. And dis-
dain and cold withdrawal crept
into the eyes of Lao T'Sun.

Me? All-Nations Boy, they
called me, in good-humor at first,
then mockingly and with raw re-
sentment. They were all degreed
men. I was a mere publicist, ap-
pointed official chronicler by for-
tuitous virtue of thoroughly

mixed racial descent, abrogation
of all nationality allegiances and

world-citizen status.

When instability affected these
most stable of men, I became
unofficial arbiter. Not a leader.
There could be no leaders on this
trip.

photonic ally set to
snap into normal space within
planetary observation distance of
a sun, and then return.

A captain, despite all possible
screening, might be partisan. He
might attempt to land if a suit-
able planet were seen and claim it
— and the Boomerang — for his
own nation, with accidents ar^
ranged for those of the crew who

protested.

So there was no crew.

The Boomerang couldn't have
been built by any single nation.
It taxed the resources of the en-

tire Earth. And the federal Earth

had made sure it

would return as a federal ship —

if it returned.

The luminous dust that now
ringed the Earth to mark the
orbit of the vanished Moon was
a reminder that no single nation
could ever again be allowed to
make an extraterrestrial conquest.

Federal government, imposed
and maintained by mutual fear
of a war that might reduce Earth

itself to the same dust, hadn't

UNIVERSITY

diminished nationalistic rivalries
in all spheres. Healthy economic
and cultural competition re-
mained, but under extremely
tight control.

Now, if never before, I could
see why. We're still children.
Proof enough of that in the
squabbles after the Boomerang
had been built, when the "pro-
portional representation" howl
went up. It was howled down, and
the decision was made that basic
racial groupings and not states
should be represented, on a geo-
political basis.

Yet these six under the strain
of flight had become a microcosm
of the still-divided world.

But they were powerless to do
more than quarrel. We were still
under the aegis of the govern-
ment which set and sealed us
aboard this fabulous craft to go,
observe, return and report. Our
destiny was still in the hands of
men back in the Solar System,
as surely as though those hands

were propelling us.

Perhaps it was that knowledge
of complete helplessness that was
partly responsible for the psy-
chological crackup. These men
were theoreticians. None could
assume control of the vessel. Only
two — Aventos and Lao— had a
full mathematical grasp of the
space -strain theory on which the
propulsion unit was based. But
neither would know what to do

with a spanner if you put one in
theii hands.

Except crack each other over
the head with it.

That's what nearly happened.
Middle-aged men might taunt,
decry, jibe, revert to childishness
in these circumstances, but I fig-
ured their whole conditioning
would prevent actual personal
violence.

Then I had to hold Braithe-
waite back. And not long after

that episode, Lao T'Sung, oldest
and wisest among us, staggered
against my desk and slumped
near my feet.

Brodcuzynski looked at his
grazed knuckles. "I must be in-
sane," he muttered. He seemed
even more shocked than Lao, who

sat up and rubbed a bruised chin.

For a moment, I thought the

cosmologist would burst into

tears of remorse. Instead, he
helped the sixty-year-old mathe-
matician to his feet.

"T'Sung, I could cut off my
fist," he said awkwardly, "Some-
thing snapped in my head. How
can I apologia

Lao T'Sung took both hands
of the man who'd just struck him
and said: "I'm more surprised
than hurt. Better to forgive your-
self, Brod, than need my forgive-
ness."

And Brodcuzynski snatched his
wrists away and shouted: "For
God's sake, * don't be magnani-

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

mous! Let me be sorry my own

way

GOT up from my desk. "It

was a lousy trick, Brod."
"Don't I know it? Here, take
a smack." He jutted out his un-
shaven chin. "Go on, take a poke
at me. But don't preach!"

Lao made graceful, depreca-
tory motions with his slender yel-
lowy hands.

"Lao, you've said I had wisdom
beyond my years. Isn't it time we
applied everybody's wisdom to
the present problem?"

Lao looked at me. "I refer that
to the man who's just demon-
strated that problem. What's
your opinion, Brod?"

Brodcuzynski worriedly passed

the buck to M'Bassi. "You're the
psychologist. Why did I knock
Lao down? What's got into us?"

M'Bassi was determinedly en-
gaging himself with a stereostrip
projection of the World Games.
He lifted his eyebrows.

"You heard," I said.

"Just ignoring what I can't
control." He unrolled his lanky
black length from a sit-easy. He
was wearing only a pair of linen
shorts. "I could happily knock
all your silly heads together
knowing that my own head needs
an equally powerful jolt. My
neural paths are cross ^circuiting

into a neurosis cycle. We're af-
fected by something beyond our

immediate understanding. Some-
thing beyond human experience.

Out there."

He nodded toward the dull jet
of the vision screen. It was life-
less except for the blue -white
patch of the Galaxy we were both
leaving and approaching — and

existing in.

"Within our own solar system,
our minds are safe. The distances
and speeds involved in transit
are directly comprehensible. But
our present velocity and mode of
propulsion are beyond either di-
rect or intuitive conception.

"In effect, we're in an alien

universe. But our minds, trained
to perceive and correlate, are in-
stinctively trying to grasp the
unknowable. That way, conflict
is sown in the unconscious."
"But men have made such

journeys in the imagination," Lao

protested, "and the imagination
is a function of the higher cen-
ters. Our friend Statlen — " he
waved at me— "has a drawerful
of photostats of ancient maga-
zines in which the concept of
interstellar travel is taken for
granted."

M'Bassi tried to smile.

Once, Sam had a similar

strained smile on his face, before

he gave me the impressioning.
The whole project was Kgliegn —
fun, playing with kids — but I
must forget that and behave like

UNIVERSITY

a child . . . Who was Sam? A

fleeting mental picture, half-

dream — _ ' ■

"Imagination,"

Bassi said

"can withdraw from the extrapo-
lation of its own functioning. But

our minds are experiencing the
unknowable. We can't withdraw.
Our destiny isn't in our own
hands. And there lies another
conflict. Part of our minds is back
home, grasping the familiar re-
ferents. . The other part is here."
M'Bassi was sitting on the
ledge in front of the vision screen.
Brodcuzynski sat up there beside
him, blocking the incredible
scene.

"The end result?" Brod asked.

"Increasing xenophobia,*' M'-
Bassi said. "The unconscious is
fighting to retain its integrity
against the impossible demands
of the higher centers." He took a
cigarette from the pocket of his
shorts. "Neurosis begins. Finally,
unless the conflict is sublimated
or resolved

He held up the cigarette, tensed
his fingers. We watched the flimsy
thing intently. It broke under the
strain. He tossed the halves to the

messroom floor.

AO, after the silence, asked:

"Why isn't Statlen affected
to the same extent as the rest of

us?

Young, resilient mind. And

with all respect to our youthful
friend, it's because his brain isn't
highly trained in scientific meth-
od. The more you know, the more
you know you don't know."

I said: "Thanks. Are you sug-
gesting they should have sent a
bunch of morons? Anyway, how
about Borg? He may act a little
crazy, but he hasn't shown any
homicidal tendencies. Let him
alone and he'll spout poetry all
day quite happily."

"It's hard to believe you're all
such innocents or so unobser-
vant." M'Bassi grinned fleetingly.
"Have vou smelled

you smenea joorg s
breath? He carries it well, but
he's been drunk for days. He's
stultified his higher centers with
alcohol."

rg Was gently snoring in a

chair.

"Why hasn't he mentioned it,
shared it around?"

M'Bassi shrugged.

"We've

hardly been on companionable
terms lately. He may be ashamed
of his secret tippling. And he may
not have much of a hoard."

Would it work?"

"Eventually it would have the
same depressant effect as a bar-
biturate."

Aventos said: "I disagree. De-
pends on the individual."

"Wake Borg," I said. "I'd

rather ride with a bunch of
drunks than a homicidal gang of
schizophrenics."

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

Lao was startled. "My dear
Statlen, have some respect for
your elders. Do you propose to
feed us alcohol as you'd feed a
baby soothing syrup?"

M'Bassi waved an expressive
pink -palmed hand at the group.
"Babies," he said. "I prescribe it.
We must try something, and do
it soon. The only alternative is
narcotics from the first-aid, in
large doses. If there's enough to
go around, we'd become raging

addicts."

."We don't know if there's
enough alcohol," Braithewaite
pointed out. "Borg couldn't have
secreted much."

I shook Borg's shoulders
roughly. His head lolled over and
he opened red -veined eyes.

"Where is it? Where do. you
keep your liquor?"

He smiled feebly. "Wouldn't
you like to know, son? Go away."

"How much have you got
cached? We feel like a drink
ourselves."

He sat up and looked around
blearily. "That's different. I fig-
ured you were all blue noses be-
cause I was the only one who

brought any aboard.* I finished

that way back, but I got plenty
more. Plenty. More'n you could
drink in a year of pub- crawling."

That
ago.

course

was arranged
No mass

there was plenty.

by Sam long
pedition, no

moronic minds, but a iew oi th&
best- — with their higher centers
temporarily dulled.

ORG weaved out of the door

with drunken benevolent ges-
tures to us to follow.

I had the crazy idea he might
be distilling it. That was just
possible, using ration fruit bars.
Where? Practically any place
away from our quarters. We
weren't cramped for space. The
Boomerang was a rabbit-warren.
It wouldn't have been over-
manned with a crew of a few
hundred, and there were only
seven of us.

The machinery installed to re-
place crew — rob-mechs of fan-
tastic omniscience, competence
and cost — occupied only frac-
tional space. A full-scale dis-

tillery could have been set up
somewhere in the miles of con-
voluted steel guts of the ship.
She'd been started

generation - to - generation

as a
vessel.

An entire self-contained coloniz-
ing community was to have
boarded her, with the hope that
their great - great - great - grand-
children would get to some star

on straight atomic drive.

That might have been better.
Time and a common, recognized

destiny would have welded them

into racial and political homo-
geneity. But when the new drive

was discovered, it was cheaper to

UNIVERSITY

install it in this vast, near-empty
hull than build another. The
drive disregarded mass, could
move or "translate" a mountain
as easily as a molehill.

Still, the Boomerang could be
carrying hundreds instead of a
mere seven political and scientific
guinea pigs.

Six guinea pigs — and yourself,
Statlen, said a timeless whisper.

I stumbled on M'Bassi's heels
we filed into yet another
empty, echoing corridor. He half-
turned with a forgiving grin.

"This calls for fullest exercise
of your descriptive powers, Stat-
len. Here we are, seven mature
representatives of a race that's
reaching out for the Universe, and
we're running away from our own
presumption. Running away from
the stars — in search of a drink/'

Aventos, just behind me, said
quietly and without blasphemy:

. . and on the sixth day, God
took time off from Creation to
slip into the nearest saloon for a
shot of rye."

Lao T'Sung said: "You think
we're playing at being God?"

We're playing at being men.
At the moment we all want to
go home to Mother. We think
we're grown up, making our way
in the world. But we're still tied
to her apron strings."

M'Bassi's voice boomed back

in the corridor.' "Mother Earth,
eh? A startlingly fresh applica-
tion of the ancient Jungian psy-
chology."

Borg stopped in front of a red-
painted sliding door, fumbled
with a complicated catch. "Open
Sesame !"

Cans were stacked in clamped
piles inside.

"The Boomerang" said Borg,
"is a complete ship. The emer-
gency chemical jets may never
have to be used. If they are,
there's sufficient for five minute's
blasting in the tanks. And if that's
not enough, here's a reserve."

Brodcuzynski looked at the
symbols on the cans and uttered
a few wondering cusswords.
"Look what that Dane's been
drinking! Don't anyone give Borg
a cigarette or he'll jet off clean
out of his boots."

"Not neat, of course," Borg
agreed. "Recipe is one -third ab-
solute, one-third water, one-third
fruit juice. No fusel oils or other
rotgut products after distillation.

Just plain, pure ethyl alcohol. It
makes terrific cocktails. I've tried

it with lemon, bay leaves, tomato
ketchup, aniseed and milk so far.
It curdles the milk. But let's

experiment.

7T1HAT had been four hours

-** ago, ship time.

The pickling process with men
obviously unused to alcohol had

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

been rapid. And they weren't in
prime physical condition, though
you wouldn't guess it, looking at
the exertions of Brodcuzynski
and M'Bassi.

Their reactions were slowed,
high centers dulled.

Nicely timed. In about an hour
according to the clock in my mind
— the only possible measurement
in this case — they would be in
the passive stage, quietly happy
or maybe maudlin, according to
temperament. And receptive.

Receptive to what?

M'Bassi quit his thumping,
came over to my desk and grab-
bed the edge to steady himself.
"You don' look too good, son.

What's troublin' you?"

"Wish I knew," I said, and
meant it. I rubbed the back of my
head. "There's something ticking
away here, and the ticks are get-
ting closer together."

He laughed. "Sonarscope, may-
be. Or that's an egg and you've
got something hatching inside
there waitin' to bust out. Don't
worry, boy. Have some more
snake-milk."

I shot the drink down with a
grimace. But the ticking went on,
irritating, irregular, quickening,
like a geiger counter approaching
a radioactive source.

Within the hour it had become
a continuous susurration.

A few seconds after the alarm
signal vibrated through the mess-
room, it stopped abruptly.

The observation screen flared
white and blank, pseudo- gravity
ceased with the cutting of the
drive -field, and the simple instru-
ments rimming the screen showed
the impossible: zero readings all
around. -

The Boomerang was at rest.

I saw the necessity for the
relaxing ,alcohol now.

Two billion tons of metal being
translated at more -than -light ve-
locity can't come to a dead stop.

But it had.

And alcohol cushioned the

mind against that fact. And

against other things.

"Pink elephants!" Aventos
breathed. He turned a slow cart-
wheel in front of the screen and
solemnly regarded the dials up-
side down. "I don't believe it."

Braithewaite pointed to the
thing that was growing slowly in
the middle of the messroom.

"Thass not pink," he said care-
fully, "and it's not an ephelant."

Sam stabilized himself at half
his full size and looked around.
He saw me and smiled.

"Having fun?" he asked vocal-
ly in English.

I'd waited four thousand years

for that trigger. Now I remem-
bered.

"Nice body," Sam approved.
"Can you still semblize?"

UNIVERSITY

- IT

i-rf

<*.

"It's

■*

»»

Give me time," I said,
been quite a while.

"We'll shift the whole heap

down to the — what's the word?"
Campus," I supplied,
•campus, and give these
good gentlemen a little gravity
before they lose their last meal."

T the farther end of the Hall,

the statue of Athena hadn't
changed since I last saw it. The
Eternal Light still burned as
brightly from the alabaster of
that vast, high forehead. Not sur-
prising, considering it had a half-
life of two million years.

I gave her a perfunctory nod
and half a wink. We revere wis-
dom, not its symbols. But she
impresses the customers.

Sam, to me, direct: No Greek?

English universal tongue now.

Barbaric.

You get it?

In clear. Help out with odd

term.

Vocally, to the six : "Gentle-
men, as — "

President.

•president of this establish-
ment, I welcome you and trust

that your stay will be pleasant.
Mr. Statlen will continue to act
as your mentor and guide and I
shall be available at any time if
you wish for any .further informa-
tion and — "

Enlightenment.

Filthy concatenation of sylla-

bles, that. Don't like: 9

'—enlightenment."

If this be Valhalla, I recog-
ize no gods," muttered Borg sud-
denly. I thought it was a mis-
placed sense of the dramatic until
I realized he was quoting. He
strode forward and poked at
Sam's shoulder.

•A?

<<T9

I'm all here," Sam said po-
litely.

"That's more than I am, mis-
ter."

"And my name isn't — "

Bearded mythological gate-
keeper?

St. Peter.

"—isn't St. Peter. I realize you
must be upset and confused by
the suddenness of this arisement,
but we find it psychologically
unwise to allow reason to inter-
vene by doing things more grad-
ually."

Upset?" Braithewaite laughed
shortly. "That's the ultimate un-
derstatement."

JT^HEY were sobering up fast,

-*- but alcohol still put a pro-
tective haze over their higher
faculties.

"If it's real," M'Bassi said,
"I'm due for a galaxy -size hang-

over.

"Where are we?" asked Lao
bluntly. Drinking rice wine in his
youth had given him a hard and
intensely practical head.

"A planet," Sam replied.

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

"Impossible. Our retranslation
into the normal continuum could
not have taken place so near

planetary mass."

So near? You were a light-
month distant when our field en-

compassed you."

"Stopped us and brought us
here within ten minutes?"

"An arbitrary measure of
time.

>»

"What system is this?"

"One far removed from your

own.

"Our range was five light-years.
Centaurus — "

"Your range was far greater
than you were permitted to ima-
gine. Even had it been less, you
would have been brought within
the aegis of this establishment.

safe and you'll be made comfort-
able."

Brodcuzynski spoke for the
first time. Despite his silvered
hair, he was the youngest in
heart. He was still happy-drunk.
He had wandered away to study
the decorated wall panels. He'd
even spoken to a student scurry-
ing through the Hall to look at
the Boomerang. She smiled,
psyched him quickly, gave his
head a benedictory pat, and hur-
ried on to join her quietly amused
colleagues in the doorway. None
of them had paused to look at our
group.

Brod rejoined us. "Nice place,"
he said. "Coeducational, too. Um-
um. Don't tell my wife."

Thank Athena for Brod at that

And now, gentlemen, please allow moment.

Mr. Statlen to conduct you to

your quarters. Time for questions
and work after you've rested.**

CAM abruptly semblized him-
*-* self elsewhere and left me to

face the growing storm.

I'm afraid Aventos was the
first to display terrestrial chau-
venism and a lamentable lack of
intellectual discipline.

"I suppose you can vanish like
that, you bloody spy?"

I laughed at the use of the
term. "Fve nearly forgotten, but
I'll be getting into practice again.
The word 'spy' implies conflict.
There's no conflict here. You*re

The temporary easing of sus-
picion gave me time to usher
them to their adjoining rooms.

"Take a nap, freshen up, then
we'll eat," I said.

Aventos sat on the edge of his
couch. His normally olive face

was pale. "Where is it?"

"Out along the corridor to the
left. Marked with an unmistak-
able symbol."

"We're not prisoners?"

"Go where you like, Juan. But
I'd advise you to rest."

He put his head in his hands
and looked sick and miserable.

When I reported to Sam later,

he was giving instructions for

UNIVERSITY

a.
p

the Boomerang to be parked else-
where.

Direct: "Litters up the place.

What a ship! A power hammer

to crack a nut. Initially a colon-
izer?"

"You did well, Stat."

"No thanks to me. Does con-
ditioning take everything into
account, every conceivable devi-
ation?"

"No. You automatically apply

correction."

"Interference?"

"Of course not. Unconscious

participation to a worthy end.
Do you recall no example?"

I thought back. "A statesman-
thinker, Francis Bacon . . . Yes,

I started trend."

"Completed?"

"No. Still mind-matter bifur-
cation."

Sam: "Obvious, from that un-
gainly hulk of metal. Will they

get through?"

Doubt Hope. "I like them."

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

*■*

Sam, amusement: "They don't
like you. They'll like you less
afterward. Tough job."

Myself, depreca tion concept :
"Would be, if I were conscious of
performing it."

Return if necessary?"
Certainly. Was writing ima-
ginative fiction. Helps a little, I
believe."

rwiHE six were observed during

•*• their unrestrained wanderings.
I took part and scanned them

myself during one particular
sleep-period, the greater part of
which they spent in Lao T'Sung's
room, framing questions. Aventos
called it a "council of war."

On the following day -start, I
took them to Assembly in the
Hall. Despite exercise therapy,
they still showed signs of mental
wear and physical dissipation.
But Brodcuzynski was still irre-
pressible.

He looked at a group of stu-
dents from Mizra III, tall,, uni-

UNIVERSITY

formly blonde, in purple gowns.
"Magnificent !"

M'Bassi surprise4 me. "Don't
fool yourself, Brod. They prob-
ably regard you as a mentally
retarded savage from a cesspool
planet."

"That came hard, didn't it,
M'Bassi?" I asked quietly.

"It's obvious. The only possible
conclusion to fit the facts. The
others don't agree, but — " He
shrugged his massive black
shoulders. "My branch of the
race suffered imposed inferiority
for so long that rny ego isn't out-
raged by the assumption, unlike
Juan Aventos and Lao T'Sung,
who seem to be taking the dignity
of the entire race on their shoul-
ders.

True dignity can never be pa-
thetic, even when it lacks sub-
stance for its assertion.

But I smiled within when Lao
marched up to the rostrum be-
neath the representation of
Athena and raised his voice to
Sam

"Let's stop this farce! Why
are we here? Where is this place?
What is the purpose of this gath-
ering? If this is some form of

religious ceremony — "

A vocal buzz of surprise arose
from the students as they put out
psych-prongs to Lao and grasped

— or failed to gra^sp — his mean-
ing.

Even though he knew it was

coming, Sam was a little embar-

rassed. There had been few such
interruptions during the million
years of his presidency.

"I regretful — " Sam began.

Word, quickly. That's incor-
rect.

Just say you're sorry.

"I'm sorry you should chose
this moment to question me, Mr.
Lao. I have told you that you
have access to me at any time.
And this is not religion. I can
see your concept dimly. You are
not

Sam fumbled impatiently in
my mind. Abrogating, I told him.
It's a soothing vocalization.

abrogating one whit of your
particular individual or racial su-
perstition-

Attention, Sam. That's wrong.
Use belief.

" — beliefs by attending this lit-

very

tie ceremony. We are merely dedi-
cating the new day to a chase of
knowing."

Sam plucked the words from
me before I could indicate cor-
rect usage, and tried metaphor in
an unknown tongue — a
chancy business.

Pursuit of wisdom.

Doesn't matter. He gets the
idea.

Lao did. He returned to our
group, sat in hard-faced silence
until the brief business was fin-
ished, students had dispersed and
seats which were not being used
had sunk again into the floor.

~- t

! i

v '

1+2

'4 -

I l

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

When Sam came up to us, gray-
haired old Braithewaite chuckled
at a sudden recollection.

"In walk and general demean-
or," he said, "you might be the
twin brother of my tutor at Ox-
ford."

A classical university.

Sam grinned back. "I take that
as a compliment. You were a stu-
dent of Greek?"

"A poor one."

"But you recognize our em-
blem?"

"I've seen similar representa-
tions of Athena, allegoricized as a
symbol of wisdom.'

WHIM on the part of our

expedition. They

first

brought her back some four thou-
sand of your years ago. She re-
placed an earlier symbol from
another solar system, and has re-
mained our favorite since, alt-
hough we have a choice of five
hundred or more similar symbols

from the mythologies of other
planets. Our second expedition
placed Mr. Statlen among you,"
"Are we to believe he's as old
as that?" Aventos demanded,
lookincr at me with bleak-eyed

m »

suspicion.

Reply, Stat.

"In effect, considerably older,"

didn't know that I was anything
other than what I seemed."

"The essence of what is loosely
called mind or ego was, in Mr.
Statlen's case, rendered trans-
ferable," Sam explained. "The
faculty was unconscious, together
with memories of its endow-
ment and its eventual purposes.
The awareness of an observer
becomes a factor in his ob-

■

servations, so awareness was
suppressed.

"When intervention of a kind
at last became necessary, Mr.
Statlen became- the unconscious
transmitter of certain impulses
which subtly influenced the
course of events.

"A devious method of achiev-
ing our ends, but a more direct
means would defeat our pur-
pose."

"And what is that purpose?"

Aventos asked.

"To ascertain without its
knowledge whether a race has
achieved a degree of civilization
commensurate with its material
and scientific advancement. Civ-
ilization lies in the hearts and
minds of men, not in their works.
You've developed interstellar
travel, but are you fit to use it?
Are you fit to— graduate?"

M'Bassi widened his broad

I said. "But until yesterday, I nostrils. "If Statlen's the boss-
had no memories beyond those boy and he's been around so long,
of the thirty-odd years I've spent why not ask him?"
in this particular body; and I "Neither Mr. Statlen nor his

UNIVERSITY

innumerable colleagues are able
to communicate with us, or we
with them. That would negate
the non-intervention

Their sole task

principle.

mainly uncon-

is to insure that suitable

scious-

representatives of an aspiring
race are brought here for exami-
nation when they develop an in-
terstellar drive."

"And suppose they don't make

the grade?"

"What happens under your
own curiously varied education
system if a student fails an en-
trance examination? We can't
press the analogy too close, but
doesn't he return to junior or
public or elementary school?"

Aventos stepped closer. "Quit
dodging. You say all this is done
without the knowledge of the

race. But

knowledge

been

we've been brought
here. So we know. So what hap-
pens to us and our ship?"

Aventos' death-fear was almost
a physical pain in Sam's mind

and mine.

CAM gave him a quick soothe-
& probe. "You are sent back,"
he said gently. "Your memories
of this period are erased and re-
placed by the conviction that
your expedition has failed, that
your ship did not emerge at all
from its probability state into the
normal continuum.

"You will have been nowhere,
seen nothing. Your drive will be

altered to put you on a false and
infinitely complex mathematical
trail. This, and the vast cost of

■

experimentation, together with
subtly hindering influences un-
consciously transmitted by the
mentor delegated to your planet,
will guarantee that no further
major attempts are made for sev-
eral centuries."

Sam was becoming positively
pedantic in his use of this new
language.

Direct: more to this tongue
than J suspected. Good flowing
periods possible.

who'd been standing
quietly enough, fingering his fair
beard and gazing at Athena, said
suddenly in his deep bull voice:
"By what right do you arrogate
these powers to yourselves, what-
ever you may be?"

"The simple right of exclusion,
which has no moral, ethical or
legal basis, but is applied as a
matter of common sense. Statlen
informs me you are a professor of
comparative philology at Har-
vard University.

"Suppose a five-year-old child
from a village school demanded
the right to enter your classes,
sit in on your lectures, avail him-
self of your library. You wouldn't
even question whether he'd bene-
fit. You'd take him firmly by the
ear, lead him outside, tell him
to come back when he'd gone
through the grades and high

H -

^ \

< . -

, p

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

school and college, or however
you term the progressive units in
your educational system.

"Even if he protested that, de-
spite his behavior in fighting

other kids and breaking your

windows with his slingshot, he
was really quite grown up and a
hidden genius and fascinated by
comparative philology, would you

take his word for it?"

"A fantastic and degrading an-
alogy," Lao said coldly. "You
can't equate a race with an in-
dividual in such an incredibly
cavalier manner."

"But we can and do," said

Sam.

E had endowed himself with
the physiognomy of an ancient

Roman emperor for the benefit
of the six. He rubbed the high-
brideed nose as he spoke. "By our
standards, you are a young race.
You may have advanced suffi-
ciently to be permitted at least
to study here. That is what we
must ascertain.

"As I indicated, the empathy
index weighs more heavily with
us than the intelligence quotient.
I understand that your mental

still

and physical sciences

largely divided. That doesn't

promise well for you.

"Until a race achieves a syn-
thesis, an integrated system rec-
ognizing the indivisibility of
mind-matter concepts, its natural

chauvinism cannot be sublimated.

It remains the child of conflict.

"That attitude is useful, even
necessary, in the infancy of the
race, when survival is the only
criterion. But if the race carries
that attitude into maturity, it be-
comes dangerous to itself — and,
unfortunately, to others, because
its intransigeance is implemented
by the weapons of material ma-
turity.

"We don't claim to know the
purpose of the Universe, except,
perhap^r-that its purpose is to di-
vine its own purpose. But we do
know that fire and the sword are
not the tools for that fundamental
research."

Stand by, Stat. Test coming.
Psych all six and cross-check

with me.

In clear. Hold Brodcuzynski or
trauma possible.

Brod was still thinking in a

vague and delightfully pagan
way about the Mizra people.

Sam resumed his vocalizing to
the six: "You find this difficult
to grasp. A demonstration is more
effective than many words."

Sam, direct to A'hig Onefour,
who was standing by the right

hand of Athena watching the six

Terrestrials in amused fascina-
tion: Come.

One of the tall, blonde Mizra
students who was standing by the
right hand of Athena came across
Hall toward our group. She halt-

UNIVERSITY

ed, smiling, within the half-circle
we formed.

In Earth terms : Aphrodite new-
risen from caressing, milky-crest-
ed waves, an Amazonian Helen,
a brazen Psyche, a Pompadour in
free-limbed sports rig, a sexed
angel, an aggregation of impos-
sible but somehow attainable
desire, a nymph rampant, a sum-
mation of sensuality, a positive
aura of concupiscence —

A'hig Onefour played the part
well.

Brodcuzynski : My God, what

a cookie!

Braithewaite : Sylvia — what is

she that all her swains commend
her; holy fair and wise is she . . .
A million ships by such a Helen!

Borg : Ericka, who tasted blood
from the bronze sword of her
master and went red-lipped to
eternal battle . . . Freyka, be-
loved of strong gods.

Aventos: Northern provinces of
Spain and Italy produce such
blonde, long-limbed wonders . . .
Nev^er cold.,

M'Bassi: The uprightness of
breasts . . . Mind high clear effi-
cient . . . Couch, consulting room
. . . Hell, she'd analyze me . . .
Censor.

Lao T'Sung: By any human
esthetic standards, East or West
. . . Or equatorial . . . How is it

possible? . . . Surely parallel de-
velopment of humanoid type im±
posed by conditions of initial

tm. m

, ^':&##$i!l§il|SlIl

■$ : '-'"'y":;voi;i$

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

UNIVERSITY

formation? Fail to see. . .

Sam, vocally, and direct to
A'hig: "Would you please re-
sume your natural form, Miss
A'hig relinquishing that which

you and your colleagues adopted

for the mental convenience of

these gentlemen ?"

Badly put, Sam. Gross conno-
tation.

Doesn't matter. Psych them.
I'm holding Brod together.

And the blonde, the leggy
blonde, the luscious blonde, be-
came in slow dissolve —

— using transliterated universal
terms —

a multi-sexed, commendably
developed brachialiferous thase,
with its fifteen specialized arms
in display position, including the

electropod, biometric analyzer,
spectroscope, ultra-mike, aware-
life - organize d- mating -prong,
radiation counter,semblizer,vibra-
tion - mathematic - entertainment-
preen, quaint -psych -see -thing,
genetic regularizes telekinetic
control —

All stemmed from Sn ac-
ceptably odd oblate spheroid; a
sweetly esthetic organization of
functional necessitv. Its

necessity.

truth -in-purpose was

very

beautiful

WAS sick, bedeviled, racked
by fear, shaken by hate, until

Sam put out a calming thought.

You're identifying yourself,

Stat. Come away, Help me psych

and tabulate. i

I withdrew and touched only
what came to the surface.

Brodcuzy nski : Mental scream

. , . This j> nightmare . . . Fve
gone mad . . . God let me look
away . . . Fear . . . Hate . , . Kill it.

Braithewaite : Sick disgust,
retching . . . Medusa, monstrous
foul, demonic abortion . . . Per-
seus! A shield, a weapon . . .
strike . . . Its color . . . Slime, filth,
stench, hate, kill, cleanse ... Fire. '

Borg: Delirium tremens . . .

That damned alcohol * .

Shouldn't have brought it with
me . . . Or hypnosis? . . . Kraken
. . . Can't exist . . . Shouldn 9 t exist
. . . Worm that dieth not . . . 'i

Abomina

tion . . . Kill.

with

. . . This language is so limited in
its conceptual terminology.

The psychic storm from the

little-used voice. It cut through
the welter of near-madness. I
heard only snatches of it in my
own intense preoccupation:
highest life-form on four planets
of a system ... specialization . . .

beautiful, is it not?*'
Aventos :

Christ, planets
swarming with them! . . . the star
drive . . . sear them off . . . Cau-
others nearly overwhelmed me, terize, bum ... monstrous horror

intelligence embodied

smashing like the ravening tum-
ble of a cloudburst.

thus . . . Line of guns thudding,

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

sundered alien flesh flying.

had landed on one of the planets

M'Bassi : Jungle, night . . . Fear inhabited by A'hig's fellows, and

they had suddenly semblized near

you, would the hand controlling

your weapons be restrained by

Lao T'sung: Quick control, but reason? Possibly. But fear might

, . . Leaping creature, spear, kill
or be killed ... Redness and in-
sane delight.

vivid picture oi heel squashing

snake before blankout, and an-
other obscene unverbalized pic-
ture.

It was as though every racial

hatred and fear of difference that
had ever beset mankind welled
up in a suppurating flow from

their minds.

Scientific curiosity and thus
conscious sanity returned within
seconds. But to Sam and me it
seemed hours.

Sam said: "I'm sorry to svfbject

you to this, gentlemen, but we

wanted immediate unconscious
reactions. Had you been pre-
pared, some of you might have re-
tained rational control, according

■

to your degree of advancement
beyond atavistic xenophobia. But

we are interested only in the
degree of empathic rapport with
other intelligences.

Sam called up a chair from the
floor of the Hall and sat in it

casually. Our group was alone

now in the vastness of the Hall.
A'hig, myself, and the six re-
mained standing.

SAM stroked his Roman nose
again and tried to explain.

trigger the weapon, even if you
were otherwise well-protected.
"Suppose they approached you

slowly and with circumspection,
apparently in awe at your mas-
tery of time and space, showing
what you would take to be due
humility in face of your tech-
nical achievements, could you
learn to live in peace and coopera-
tion with such — monsters? Espe-
cially when you learned they
were your vast superiors in men-
tal science? Yes, you say, but I
doubt it. And there must be no
doubt in such matters. You do
not, it seems, know yourselves."
He sighed. "Such a simple lesson,
so long in the learning/*

"Totally unfair!" Aventos
blurted. "A farcial test, springing
something like that. Not that we

concede you have any damned
right to make any kind of test

at all."

"You confirm my views. Pride

is a tiger and vanity its teeth."

Sam, pleased with Lao T'Sung's

quick control, had gone deep
within him and found that prov-
erb. " 'Unfair* and 'concede' mean

nothing to us."

Direct: Off now, Stat. Report-

"Suppose your colonizing vessel ing to Top. Not unpleased, but

UNIVERSITY

*****

long, long yet. Take them. Un-
learning the tongue. Find it slight-
ly distasteful now.

"The question, gentlemen,"
Sam murmured, "is not whether
the Universe is fit for Man, but
whether Man is fit for the Uni-
verse. You have answered it. He
is not— yet."

gestured toward shining
Athena. "Know yourselves. Then
return."

He semblized himself to his

room.

Poor A'hig Onefour was becom-
ing a little embarrassed. I sent a
quick pleasure-scale to her-his-its
vibration - mathematic - entertain-
ment preen. Not so laughably
removed from a wolf-whistle.
Beautiful creature.

Direct: Gratitude. That's all.
Semblize off. Stay as sweet as
you are.

Query your meaning. Esthetic
appreciation?

Sorry. Yes. Earth sexual. Habit.
Thanks again. _

A'hig semblized.

Braithewaite scratched his gray
thatch. "What about this so-
called examination?"

"You've been undergoing it

since you arrived. You've just
failed your Finals. So — back to
school, kids."

Ahh, get away from me, you
dirty black. You stink.

Jim, Jim, there's a spider in the
bath! Uggh, beastly thing, kill it!
(delicate legs, sensitive quivering
palps, a thousand diamonds for

eyes, a sweetly odd oblate sphe-
roid for main body, a sheen of

iridescent purple and green. A
smear of dark blood on white
porcelain.)

You lousy no- account half-

t —

breed.

I regret that our generous offer
of an arrangement to restore a
balance of trade has met with
what can only be described as
contempt. If such outrageous pro-
vocation should continue —

See, you pull its wings off an'
its gotta crawl, it's gotta crawl
over this pencil, see?

Hands off, punk, or I 9 II kick

your teeth in.

There's a mouse! Quick, quick,
it's getting away!

Kind a saw red. Didn't mean to
kill him, honest.

Goddam furriners.

PETER PHILLIPS

ir YOU LIKE SUPERB FANTASY

. . . The ad on page 160 is something you'll want to see .
on. It's a gift and a cash saving and a new reading
single sparkling package! Thafs right, page 160.

experience

and act
all in a

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

of Galactic Law

By EDWARD WE1LEN

When you go on an interstellar
journey, be sure to take along
this handy little legal guide.

Illustrated by STONE

Principle of sell -punishment:
provided the court concurs, any
person pleading guilty to a crime
may choose the punishment he
deems fitting. (People v. Kilgore,
3380, 84 Un. 793)

AUL KILGORE was a

Terran pilot who was

scheduled to make the first
solo hop, in a faster-than -light
craft, from Pluto to Alpha Cen-
tauri. Celebrating the coming
event at the Universal Joint, a
spacemen's hangout on Mars, he
met a former shipmate. He testi-

ORIGINS OF GALACTIC LAW

* m

fied at his trial that, after a nebu-
lous number of Venus vapor
cocktails, he agreed to drop his
friend off at Pluto.

Kilgore said that while they
were passing through the Aster-
oid Belt, between Mars and Ju-
piter, he discovered that the flap
of the kit attached to his uniform
was open. Anxiously, he felt in
the pocket. It was empty. His
doppler pills, compounded espe-
cially for his projected flight,

The bartender said that Kilgore
had dropped it there.

When it came time for the
judge to pronounce sentence, Kil-
gore asked to be allowed to im-
pose his own punishment. The
judge was surprised, but he heard
Kilgore out. And he sanctioned
the penalty, a harsher penalty
than he had intended to impose.

Kilgore spent the remainder of
his life hunting the sleeping body
of the man he had marooned on

were missing. He testified that one of the myriad asteroids,
he searched the entire ship and
failed to find the pills. Then, with
growing suspicion and rage, he
looked at his snoring passenger.
He shook the limp figure of his
friend and angrily asked if the
latter had swallowed the pills. The
friend made no answer except a
foolish grin. Kilgore claimed that
this was too much for him. Venge-
fully, he jammed his friend into
a spacesuit and dumped him on
one of the 50,000 or more mile-
thick asteroids. Each pill, Kil-
gore testified, would hold up
metabolism across 130 light-
years. Long before the drug wore
off, Kilgore said he believed,
someone would come across his

■

sleeping friend.

Still fuming, Kilgore returned
to Mars for a new supply of the
pills. His first stop was the Uni-
versal Joint. He testified that the

bartender seemed glad to see him

Psychic guilt: fitting the pun-
ishment to the criminal super-
sedes fitting the punishment to
the crime. {People v. Nica, 3286,
70 Un. 1245)

N the lobby of the Jovian hos-
tel at which he was staying,
Bor Nica, a Sagittarian, brushed
against another guest, an An-
tarean. The Antarean, being un-
used to the gravity of Jupiter,
fell and bruised himself consid-
erably. When he had struggled
up again, however, instead of re-
buking Nica for jostling him and
not offering to assist him to his
feet, he passed the incident off
lightly. He was about to hop on
his way again when Nica, in an
insane rage, felled him with a
blow. This time the fall was fatal.

Nica, instead of trying to es-
and handed him a small pill box. cape, waited expectantly beside

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

the body until a nickel led him
off to detention. (Note: by 2012
U.E., inflation had caused nickel
to replace copper as the designa-
tion for an officer of the law.)
There he remained, happily
awaiting trial, until word reached
him that the widow of the An-
tarean he had murdered harbored
no hatred for him, and had in-
deed forgiven him.

Infuriated, Nica broke out of
his cell, located the widow and
killed her, too. Again he waited
beside the body of his victim.
And again he not only did not

resist arrest, but seemed to wel-

come it.

Smiling, he pleaded guilty to
both murders and listened eager-
ly for the verdict. But the judge
deferred passing sentence until
sociologists could go into Nica's
background for a clue to his

seemingly illogical actions.

They found that Nica's society
had stabilized itself on a mass
psychosis. Because of atrocities
his people had committed in their
history, they had piled up a vast
unpaid debt of guilt. This weigh-
ed so heavily on them that every

normal individual in Nica's so-
ciety had a compulsion to seek

punishment.

Th e j ud ge studied this report. He
reasoned that the greatest pun-
ishment Nica could receive would

be no punishment. Any penalty
he could impose would only gra-
tify Nica instead of punishing

him.

Therefore he set Nica free.

Frantic, Nica appealed the
court's judgment, but in vain.
The Galactic Tribunal held that
he could not place himself in
double jeopardy. The Jovians de-
ported Nica to his home planet.
There he remained an outcast
because of his humiliating failure
to obtain the punishment they
all sought. His honor was not re-
stored until he bribed a passing
Cygnian to shoot him in a care-
fully contrived hunting accident.

ORIGINS OF GALACTIC LAW

Pro rata sentencing: terms of
penal servitude are to be based
upon comparative Hie expectan-
cy. (JPe6ple v. Gund, 3286, 70
Un. 1245)

N the park on the vacation

satellite orbiting around Al-
tair VII was the body of a Vegan,
beaten to death. Beside him lay
the carcass of his pet ululu, also
beaten to death. Erdo Gund, a
Procyoni, voluntarily gave him-
self up. At his trial, Gund's de-
position, which he had signed by
impressing his noseprint, was of-
fered in evidence by the prosecu-
tor.

_ W r

In this deposition, Gund ad- sition was accurate, too.

mitted killing the pet's master —
but not the pet. In fact, he stated,
his motive for killing the master
was the anger he felt when he
saw the Vegan brutally beating
the pet. He struck the Vegan
down when the cumulative effect

of witnessing nearly two hours
of the master's cruelty and the
pet's pain had proved unbear-
able.

* m

At this point the judge inter-
rupted the reading of the deposi-
tion. He said he had understood
other witnesses to state that the
Vegan's fatal beating of the ulu-
lu had lasted only ten minutes
at most.

The prosecutor said that His
Honor was correct in his under-

explained to the judge that, to the
Terran-type observer, the Procy-

bni's span of life averaged two
Earth years. In that length of
time, the Procyoni lived — sub-
jectively — as long as a centen-
arian Earthman.

The prosecutor further said

that in view of all the circum-
stances, he was of the opinion

that .Gund could not plead "not

guilty by reason of temporary
insanity." However, added the
prosecutor, he would ask His
Honor to be lenient and take
into account the temporal dif-
ferential.

The judge followed the prose-
cutor's recommendation and sen-
tenced Gund to 30 Earth hours

standing. But, he said, the depo- of psychic guilt.

GALAXY SCIE N C E FICTION

Semantic jurisprudence : that
branch of the law which system-
atizes forensic debate on ques-
tions of meaning, (JJ, of Venus v.
Vac, Inc. et ah, 2937, 63 Un, 8451)

AC. , Inc. , was a Terran corpo-
ration supplying the vacuum
of space for use in laboratory re-
search. At its plant on Luna, it

manufactured its product by
welding two duralloy hemispheres
lip to lip and thus sealing a vacu-
um inside the globe they formed.
One container in a shipment to
the University of Venus proved
to be defective. The University
sued for damages resulting from
sudden failure of the built-in valve.
These damages included the tear-
ing of the elbow-beard of a visit-

exchange for good hard cash.
However, attorney for the plain-
tiff argued, no absolute vacuum

ing Ganymedean professor, which exists in all space, there being a

had been sucked into the globe.
Attorney for the defendants
asked for dismissal of the suit
on the grounds that a vacuum
was nothing, and that when both

parties to the action had stipu-
lated the loss of a vacuum, the
plaintiff in effect admitted losing
nothing. In support of this con-
tention, attorney for the defand-
ants exhibited the advertising
slogan of Vac, Inc., "Nothing —
but the best!"

Attorney for the plaintiff coun-
tered the dismissal motion by
stating that if this were true, then
the defendants were confessing to
the inequity of giving nothing in

minimum of twelve molecules per
cubic foot in the emptiest reach-
es. Therefore, she claimed, there
* is nothing in the Universe which
one might name "nothing."

That last statement, attorney
for the defendants replied scorn-
fully, was self -contradictory.
"Nothing" exists, he said; the
space between the molecules is
"nothing."

Quickly, attorney for the plain-
tiff exclaimed that now her learn-
ed opponent was arguing on the
side of her client by agreeing that
"nothing" is something.
% At this point the judge wearily
recessed court, declaring that he

ORIGINS OF GALACTIC LAW

intended to damp his brain waves
with tonic chord therapy.

As soon as court reconvened,

the judge asked if either party
objected to the swearing in of a
panel of semanticists. There was
no objection. And so, before de-
ciding on the dismissal motion,
the judge submitted the problem
to the panel.

With a squad of burly bailiffs
keeping order among the vener-
able semanticists, the question fi-
nally came to a vote.

The majority decided that a
vacuum is "something."

The judge denied the defend-
ants' motion for dismissal, heard

the case, and found for the plain-
tiff. He awarded to the University
40 million credits. But legal ex-

utilizing the facilities of the pas-
senger division of that firm.

Under a governmental Class F
priority (his heart could not
stand the strain of spaceship trav-
el), he had returned to his native
Terra via teletote. He charged
General Teletote with garbling
him in transmission.

General Teletote admitted that
its tri- dimensional scanner had
reassembled Smith improperly.
The firm also conceded that its
Terr an operator had been out on
a pan jo drunk, leaving the recep-
tor controls untended and incor-
rectly adjusted — - permitting
electronic snow to piebald Smith.

But though it acknowledged its
carelessness, General Teletote
firmly disclaimed any liability.

penses and the adverse publicity It produced the customary waiver

bankrupted Vac, Inc.
It paid nothing.

Law of identity: any judgment
of the court is a true judgment in
all succeeding cases where the
circumstances are the

(Smith v. General Teletote, 3016,
24 Un. 612)

■

AK SMITH, a clerk in the
Titan branch of the First So-
lar Bank & Trust Co., filed a civil
suit against General Teletote. He
sought to recover damages for 9
injuries he had sustained while

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

that Smith had signed prior to
transmission, absolving General
Teletote of all responsibility for
mishap in transit and/or upon
reception.

Smith replied that as he was
now obviously not the same in-
dividual who had signed the
waiver, its terms were not bind-
ing on him.

General Teletote answered that
if Smith was not the same indi-
vidual, he could not claim dam-
ages in the other's name.

Having studied the briefs, the

Galactic Tribunal ruled that even
by the signing of a 'waiver, an
individual cannot divest himself
of his inalienable right to his own
identity.

Smith had just won his case

when the "ghost image" of Smith
came forward, pressing claims for
a like award. To prove these
claims, the ghost image produced
witnesses who testified that
Smiths had emerged from the re-
ceptor shortly after Smithy al-
though records failed to show any
other transmission scheduled for
that time and place.

Smith i struggled for sole pos-
session of his identity. He sided
with General Teletote in its at-
tempts to disprove Smithes phys-
ical appearance by saying that
the latter was merely a partial
albino who saw a good chance to
cash in on the accidental resem-
blance.

The battle ended suddenly one
day in court when the judge in-
tervened, pointing but that both
had equally good evidence, that
there was no doubt that they were
the same man, and asked them to
effect a compromise. Otherwise,
the judge explained, the case
would result in a deadlock. Smithi
and Smith 2 quickly came to a
settlement.

The two set up a partnership
with the credits they collected
and established a firm which be-
came the foremost competitor of

General Teletote.

Doctrine of excusable fraud:
deception, when welcomed by the

victimized party, comes within

the realm of caveat emptor.
(Based on a quashed indictment,
3426 r/.E.)

T TNTIL he worked his great
^ coup, Conway Limbeck was
a minor criminal preying on the
gullible-minded and larcenous-
hearted. He sold interests in a
formula for synthesizing ambi-
dextrose sugar. For years he

thrived on this formula, which
was more than his victims could
claim. At the time he dreamed up
his brilliant stroke, he was chief
steward aboard a Sirius-bound

liner. Thanks to forged creden-
tials, he was making a getaway

ORIGINS OF GALACTIC LAW

in the most comfortable style.
While the liner was approach-
ing Sirius XIII, a passenger
gave Limbeck a fifty credit tip.
Limbeck examined the note. It
gave him ideas. He stole into

the chart room and trimmed the
blank edges from the astronau-

tical maps. These plastic strips
had the official heat mark im-
bedded in them. Then Limbeck
burgled enough photo supplies to
counterfeit the strips into notes
amounting to Cr. 3 trillion.

When the liner landed on Sirius
XIII, Limbeck hastened to the
Presidential Shack. Convincing

credentials vouching for Limbeck
as representative plenipotentiary
of the Io Trading Trust gained
him immediate admittance. After
the ceremonial somersaults were
exchanged, Limbeck announced
that the Trust had authorized
him to negotiate for that season's

* - *

output of tumul.

The President was . hard-of-
smelling until the interpreter
wafted that Limbeck had finally
raised his offer to Cr. 2J/£ trillion.
When he gave vent to his great
satisfaction, the President nearly
bowled Limbeck over.

Limbeck chartered a vessel

with his remaining Cr. y 2 trillion
and took off with his precious
payload. His vessel had hardly
come out of synergy when the
Siriutes realized that Limbeck

4 \

had jetted a fast one on them. A a tyrant

Sirius XIII patrol intercepted
and boarded Limbeck's vessel.
Limbeck's heart sank as he faced
the boarding party. Then to hi<
amazement he scented that the
Siriutes were emitting friendly
laughs. Their leader passed over
a new agreement for Limbick to
sign. It was a contract for tumul
futures.

In bewilderment, Limbeck read
the terms. They were extremely
favorable to him— especially the
explicit condition that he was to
make payment in counterfeit
credits only.

The Siriutes told him they
valued the counterfeit more than
the genuine. This fetish of theirs,
they explained, stemmed from the
darkest age of their history, when

had set himself up

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

through fraud. The revolutionary
fervor with which they at last
overthrew him fired in them a
passion for skepticism. For this
reason they treasured symbols of
disbelief.

Limbeck was more than happy
to sign the contract.

But news of the Sirius situation

outsped his vessel and the GB£
nailed him. However, the Galactic
Government had no evidence
with which to pin the counter-
feiting charge on Limbeck, as the
proud possessors of the fakes had
hidden them and would not yield
them up. The most that the gov^
ernment ceuld do was to put a
brake on his future activities: It
enjoined him from counterfeiting.
Sirius XIII demanded that

contract was illegal and invalid.

But the Secretary for Galactic
defense privately informed Lim-
beck that he was anxious to see
the deal come off, as tutnul was
vital to defense. Limbeck, of
course, was equal to the problem.
He arranged a secret ren-
dezvous in deep space. The Siri-
utes and Limbeck exchanged
tutnul and currency. After Lim-
beck's departure, the Siriutes no-
ticed an inscription beginning to
appear in each of the notes. The

inscription read: GENUINE —
PASSED AS COUNTERFEIT.

This double fraud doubly de-
lighted the Siriutes and they
gratefully bestowed upon Lim-
beck their highest award.

The medal, of course, was made

Limbeck fulfill the contract. The of synthetic platinum.

Galactic Tribunal ruled that the

EDWARD WELLEN

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ORIGINS OF GALACTIC LAW

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* —

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Fresh ideas and convincing characterization, conflict and plot de-
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UNREADY

■ #

Escaping your worries is good
sound medical advice— as long
as you leave yourself behind!

By KURT VONNEGUT, JR

1 DON'T suppose the oldsters,
those of us who weren't born
into it, will ever feel quite
at home being amphibious — am-
phibious in the new sense of the
word. I still catch myself feeling
blue about things that don't mat-
ter any more.

I can't help worrying about my
business, for instance — or what
used to be my business. After all , .
I spent thirty years building the

thing up from scratch, and now
the equipment is rusting and get-
ting clogged with dirt. But even
though I know it's silly of me
to care what happens to the busi-
ness, I borrow a body from a stor-
age center every so often, and go
around the old home town, and

clean and oil as much of the
equipment as I can.

Of course, all in the world, the
equipment was good for was mak-

Mustrated by SUSSMAN

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

ing money, and Lord knows
there's plenty of that lying
around. Not as much as there
used to be, because there at first
some people got frisky and threw
it all around, and the wind blew
it every which way. And a lot of
go-getters gathered up piles of
the stuff and hid it somewhere.
I hate to admit it, but I gathered
up close to a half million myself
and stuck it away. I used to get it
out and count it sometimes, but
that was years ago. Right now I'd
be hard put to say where it is.
But the worrying I do about
my old business is bush league
stuff compared to the worrying
my wife, Madge, does about our
old house. That thing is what she
herself put in thirty years on

while I was building the business.
Then no sooner had we gotten
nerve enough to build and deco-
rate the place than everybody
we cared anything about got am-
phibious. Madge borrows a body
once a month and dusts the place,
though the only thing a house is
good for now is keeping termites
and mice from getting pneu-
monia.

WHENEVER it's my turn to
get into a body and work as
an attendant at the local storage
center, I realize all over again
how much tougher it is for wo-
men to get used to being amphib-
ious.

Madge borrows bodies a lot
oftener than I do, and that's true
of women in general. We have to
keep three times as many wo-
men's bodies in stock as men's
bodies, in order to meet the de-
mand. Every so often, it seems
as though a woman just has to
have a body, and doll it up in
clothes, and look at herself in a
mirror. And Madge, God bless
her, I don't think she'll be satis-
fied until she's tried on every
body in every storage center on
Earth.

It's been a fine thing for Madge,
though. I never kid her about it,
because it's done so much for her
personality. Her old body, to tell

you the plain blunt truth, wasn't
anything to get excited about,
and having to haul the thing
around made her gloomy a lot of
the time in the old days. She
couldn't help it, poor soul, any
more than anybody else could
help what sort of body they'd
been born with, and I loved her
in spite of it.

Well, after we'd learned to be
amphibious, and after we'd built
the storage centers and laid in

body supplies and opened them
to the public, Madge went hog

wild. She borrowed a platinum
blonde body that had been do-
nated by a burlesque queen, and
I didn't think we'd ever get her
out of it. As I say, it did- wonders
for her self-confidence.

UN READY TO WEAR

I'm like most men and don't

care particularly what body I
get. Just the strong, good-looking,
healthy bodies were put in stor-
, so one is as good as the

next one. Sometimes, when

Madge and I take bodies out to-
gether for old times' sake, I let
her pick out one for me to watch
whatever she's got on. It's a fun-
ny thing how she always picks a
blond, tall one for me.

My old body, which she claims
she loved for a third of a century,
had black hair, and was short and
paunchy, too, there toward the
last. I'm human and I couldn't

help being hurt when they
scrapped it after I'd left it, in-
stead of putting it in storage. It
was a good, homy, comfortable
body; nothing fast and flashy,

but reliable. But there isn't much
call for that kind of body at the
centers, I guess. I never ask for
one, at any rate.

The worst experience I ever
had with a body was when I was
flimflammed into taking out the
one that had belonged to Dr. El-
lis Konigswasser. It belongs to
the Amphibious Pioneers' Society

and only gets taken out once a

year but for the big Pioneers'

Day Parade, on the anniversary
of Konigswasser' S* discovery.
Everybody saicl it was a great
honor for me to be picked to get
into Konigswasser's body and

lead the parade.

Like a plain damn fool, I be-
lieved them.

npHEY'LL have a tough time

-*- getting me into that thing
again — ever. Taking that wreck
out certainly made it plain why
Konigswasser discovered how
people could do without their
bodies. That old one of his prac-
tically drives you out. Ulcers,
headaches, arthritis, fallen arches
a nose like a pruning hook,
piggy little eyes, and a complex-
ion like a used steamer trunk. He
was and still is the sweetest per-
son you'd ever want to know,
but, back when he was stuck with
that body, nobody got close
enough to find out.

We tried to get Konigswasser
back into his old body to lead
us when we first started having
the Pioneers' Day Parades, but
he wouldn't have anything to do
with it, so we always have to
flatter some poor boob into tak-
ing on the job. Konigswasser
marches, all right, but as a six-
foot cowboy who can bend beer
cans double between his thumb
and middle finger.

Konigswasser is just like a kid
with that body. He never
tired of bending beer cans with
it, and we all have to stand

around in our bodies after the
parade, and watch as though we
were very impressed.

I don't suppose he could bend

100

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

very much of anything back in
the old days.

Nobody mentions it to him,
since he's the grand old man of
the Amphibious Age, but he plays
hell with bodies. Almost every
time he takes one out, he busts
it, showing off. Then somebody
has to get into a surgeon's body
and sew it up again.

I don't mean to be disrespect-

■

ful of Konigswasser. As a matter
of fact, it's a respectful thing to
say that somebody is childish in
certain ways, because it's people
like that who seem to get all the
big ideas.

There is a picture of him in

the old days down at the Histori-
cal Society, and you can see from
that that he never did grow up
as far as keeping up his appear-
ance went — doing what little he
could with the rattle-trap body
Nature had issued him.

ONIGSWASSER

was

mathematician, and he did
all his living with his mind. The
body he had to haul around with
that wonderful mind was about
as much use to him as a flat car
of scrap-iron. Whenever he got
sick and had to pay some atten-
tion to his body, he'd rant some-
what like this:

"The mind is the only thing
about human beings that's worth
anything. Why does it have to
be tied to a bag of skin, blood,
hair, meat, bones, and tubes? No
wonder people can't get anything
done, stuck for life with a para-
site that has to be stuffed with
food and protected from weather
and germs all the time. And the
fool thing wears out anyway
no matter how much you stuff
and protect it!

"Who," he wanted to know,

"really wants one of the things?

His hair was down below his What's so wonderful about pro-

collar, he wore his pants so low
that his heels wore through the

legs above the cuffs, and the lin-
ing of his coat hung down in
festoons all around the bottom.
And he'd forget meals, and go
out into the cold or wet without
enough clothes on, and he would
never notice sickness until it t al-
most killed him. He was, what
we used to call absent-minded.
Looking back now, of course, we
•say he was starting to be am-
phibious.

toplasm that we've got to carry
so damned many pounds of it
with us wherever we go?

Trouble with the world," said
Konigswasser, "isn't too many
people - — it's too many bodies."
When his teeth went bad on
him, and he had to have them all
out, and he couldn't get a set of
dentures that were at all com-
fortable, he wrote in his diary,
"If living matter was able to
evolve enough to get out of the
ocean, which was really quite a

UNREADY TO WEAR

101

pleasant place to live, it certainly
ought to be able to take another
step and get out of bodies, which
are pure nuisances when you stop
to think about them."

wasn't a prude about
bodies, understand, and he wasn't
jealous of people who had better
ones than he did. He just thought
bodies were a lot more trouble
than they were worth.

it home, more as a favor to the
city than anything else. He walk-
ed it into his front closet, got out
of it again, and left it there.

He took it out only when he
wanted to do some writing or
turn the pages of a book, or when
he had to feed it so it would have
enough energy to do the few odd
jobs he gave it. The rest of the
time, it sat motionless in the

He didn't have great hopes that closet, looking dazed and using
people would really evolve out ^f almost no energy. Konigswasser

their bodies in his time. He just
wished they would. Thinking
hard about it, he walked through
a park in his shirtsleeves and
stopped off at the zoo to watch
the lions being fed. Then, when
the rainstorm turned to sleet, he
headed back home and was in-
terested to see firemen on the

edge of a lagoon, where they

were using a pulmotor on a
drowned man.

Witnesses said the old man
had walked right into the water
and had kept going without

changing his expression until he'd

disappeared. Konigswasser got ^
look at the victim's face and said
he'd never seen a better reason
for suicide. He started for home
again and was almost there be-
fore he realized that that was his
own body lying back there.

told me the other day that he
used to run the thing for about
a dollar a week, just taking it out
when he really needed it.

But the best part was that
Konigswasser didn't have to sleep
any more, just because it had to
sleep; or be afraid any more, just
because it thought it might get
hurt; or go looking for things it
seemed to think it had to have.
And, when it didn't feel well,
Konigswasser kept out of it until
it felt better, and he didn't have
to spend a fortune keeping the

thing comfortable.

When he got his body out of
the closet to write, he did a book
on how to get out of one's own
body, which was rejected without
comment by twenty-three pub-
lishers. The twenty-fourth sold

E went back fo reoccupy the
body just as the firemen got

two million copies, and the book
changed human life more than
the invention of fire, numbers, the

alphabet, agriculture, or the

it breathing again, and he walked wheel. When somebody told Ko-

102

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

/si

UNREADY TO WEAR

103

nigswasser that, he snorted that
they were damning his book with
faint praise. I'd say he had a

point there.

By following the instructions
in Konigswasser's book for about
two years, almost anybody could
get out of his body whenever he
wanted to. The first step was to
understand what a parasite and
dictator the body was most of
the time, then to separate what
the body wanted or didn't want
from what you yourself — your
psyche — wanted or didn't want.
Then, by concentrating on what

you wanted, and ignoring as
much as possible what the body
wanted beyond plain mainte-
nance, you made » your psyche
demand its rights and become
self-sufficient.

That's what Konigswasser had
done without realizing it, until
he and his body had parted com-
pany in the park, with his psyche
going to watch the lions eat, and

with his body wandering out of
control into the lagoon.

The \ final trick of separation,

once your psyche grew indepen-
dent enough, was to start your
body walking into some direction

and suddenly take your psyche

off in j another direction. You
couldn'^ do it standing still r for
some reason — - you had to walk.
At first, Madge's and my
psyches were clumsy at getting
along outside our bodies, like the

first sea animals that got strand-
ed on land millions of years ago,
and who could just waddle and
squirm and gasp in the mud. But
we became better at it with time,
because the psyche can naturally
adapt so much faster than the
body. ^

ADGE and I had good rea-

son for wanting to get out.
Everybody who was crazy
enough to try to get out at the
first had good reasons. Madge's
body was sick and wasn't going
to last a lot longer. With her
going in a little while, I couldn't
work up enthusiasm for sticking
around much longer myself. So
we studied Konigswasser 's book
and tried to get Madge out of her

body before it died. I went along
with her, to keep either one of us
from getting lonely. And we just
barely made it — six weeks be-
fore her body went all to pieces.

That's why we get to march
every year in the Pioneers' Day

Parade. Not everybody does — -
only the first five thousand of
us who turned amphibious. We
were guinea pigs, without much
to lose one way or another, and
we were the ones who proved to

the rest how pleasant and safe it
was — a heck of a lot safer than
taking chances in a body year
in and year out.

Sooner or later, almost every-
body had a good reason for giving

104

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

' *

it a try. There got to be millions

and finally more than a billion

of us — invisible, insubstantial,

indestructible, and, by golly,

true to ourselves, no trouble to

anybody, and not afraid of any-
thing.

When we're not in bodies, the
Amphibious Pioneers can meet
on the head of a pin. When we
get into bodies for the Pioneers'
Day Parade, we take up over
fifty thousand square feet, have
to gobble more than three tons
of food to get enough energy to
march ; and lots of us catch colds
or worse, and get sore because
somebody's body accidentally
steps on the heel of somebody ful and. interesting

for Konigswasser's cowboy, but I
told him to soak his fat head,
anyway. He swung, and I ditched
my body right there, and didn't
even stick around long enough
to find out if he connected. He
had to haul my body back to the
storage center himself.

I stopped being mad at him
the minute I got out of the body.
I understood, you see. Nobody
but a saint could be really sym-
pathetic or intelligent for more
than a few minutes at a time in
a body — or happy, either, ex-
cept in short spurts. I haven't
met an amphibian yet who wasn't
easy to get along with, and cheer-

else's body, and get jealous be-
cause some bodies get to^lead and
others have to stay in ranks, and
— oh, hell, I don't know what all.
I'm not crazy about the parade.
With all of us there, close to-
gether in bodies — well, it brings
out the worst in us, no matter
how good our psyches are. Last
year, for instance, Pioneers' Day
was a scorcher. People couldn't

help being out of sorts, stuck in
sweltering, thirsty bodies for
hours.

Well, one thing led to another,
and the Parade Marshal offered
to beat the daylights out of my

— as long as
he was outside a body. And I
haven't met one yet who didn't
turn a little sour when he got
into one.

The minute you get in, chem-
istry takes over — glands mak-
ing you excitable or ready to
fight or hungry or mad or affec-
tionate, or — well vou never
know whafs

going

you

to happen

next.

rpHAT'S why I can't get sore

**• at the enemy, the people who

are against the amphibians. They

never get out of their bodies and

won't try to learn. They don't

body with his body, if my body want anybody else to do it, either,

got out of step again. Naturally,
being Parade Marshal, he had
the best body that year, except

and they'd like to make the am-
phibians get back into bodies and
stay in them.

UNREADY TO WEAR

105

■3

After the tussle I had with the
Parade Marshal, Madge got wind
of it and left her body right in
the middle of the Ladies' Auxil-
iary. And the two of us, feeling
full of devilment after getting
shed of the bodies and the pa-
rade, went over to have a look
at the enemy.

I'm never keen on going over
to look at them. Madge likes to
see what the women are wearing..
Stuck with their bodies all the
time, the enemy women change
their clothes and hair and cos-
metic styles a lot oftener than
we do on the women's bodies in
the storage centers.

■

I don't get much of a kick out
of the fashions, and almost every-

thing else you see and hear in
enemy territory would bore a
plaster statue into moving away.

Usually, the enemy is talking
about old-style reproduction,
which is the clumsiest, most com-
ical, most inconvenient thing any-
one could imagine, compared
with what the amphibians have
in that line. If they aren't talk-
ing about that, then they're talk-
ing about food, the gobs of
chemicals they have to stuff into
their bodies. Or they'll talk about
fear, which we. used to call poli-
tics — job politics, social politics,
government politics.

The enemy hates that, having

■ ■

us able to peek in on them any
time we want to, while they can't

unless

into

ever see us unless we get
bodies. They seem to be scared
to death of us, though being
scared of amphibians makes as
much sense as being scared of
the sunrise. They could have the
whole world, except the storage t
centers, for all the amphibians
care. But they bunch together as
though we were going to come
whooping out of the sky and do

something terrible to them at any
moment.

They've got contraptions all
over the place that are supposed
to detect amphibians. The gad-
gets aren't worth a nickel, but
they seem to make the enemy
feel good — like they were lined

up against great forces, but keep-*
ing their nerve and doing impor-
tant, clever things about it.
Knowhow — all the time they're
patting each other about how
much knowhow they've got, and
about how we haven't got any-
thing by comparison. If knowhow
means weapons, they're dead
right.

guess there is a war on be-
tween them and us. But we
never do anything about holding
up our side of the war, except
to keep our parade sites and our
storage centers secret, and to get
out of bodies every time there's
an air raid, or the enemy fires a
rocket, or something.

That just makes the enemy

106

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

madder, because the raids and
rockets and all cost plenty, and
blowing up -things nobody needs
anyway is a poor return on the
taxpayer's money. We always
know what they're going to do
next, and when and where, so
there isn't any trick to keeping
out of their way.

But they are pretty smart, con-
sidering they've got bodies to
look after besides doing their
thinking, so I always try to be
cautious when I go over to watch

them. That's why I wanted to
clear out when Madge and I saw

a storage center in the, middle of
one of their fields. We hadn't
talked to anybody lately about
what the enemy was up to, and
the center looked awfully sus-

<<T*

I'm just rooking," said Madge.
"No harm in looking."

Then she saw what was in the
main display case, and she forgot

where she was or where she'd
come from.

The most striking woman's
body I'd ever seen was in the

six feet tall and built like

» *

picious.

Madge was optimistic, the way
she's been ever since she borrow-
ed that burlesque queen's body,
and she said the storage center
was a sure sign that the enemy
had seen the light, that they were
getting ready to become amphib-
ious themselves.

Well, it looked like it. There
was a brand-new center, stocked
with bodies and open for business,

a goddess. But that wasn't the
payoff. The body had copper-
colored skin, chartreuse hair and
fingernails, and a gold lame eve-
ning gown. Beside that body was
the body of a blond, male giant
in a pale blue field marshal's uni-
form, piped in scarlet, and span-
gled with medals. .

I think the enemy must have
swiped the bodies in a raid on
one of our outlying storage cen-
ters, and padded and dyed them,
and dressed them up.

"Madge, come back!" I said.

The copper-colored woman
with the chartreuse hair moved.
A

siren screamed and soldiers
rushed from hiding places to grab
the body Madge was in. -

The center was a trap for am-
phibians!

The body Madge hadn't been
able to resist had its ankles tied
as innocent as you please. We cir- together, so Madge couldn't take

cled it several times, and Madge's
circles got smaller and smaller,
as she tried to get a close look
at what they had in the way of
ladies* ready-to-wear.
"Let's beat it," I said.

the few steps she had to take if
she was going to get out of it
again.

The soldiers carted her off tri-
umphantly as a prisoner of war.

I got into the only body avail-

UNREADY TO WEAR

107

able, the fancy field marshal, to
try to help her. It was a hopeless
situation, because the field mar-
shal was bait, too, with its ankles
tied. The soldiers dragged me af-
ter Madge.

'■THE cocky young major in

-*- charge of the soldiers did a
jig along the shoulder of the road,

he was so proud. He was the first
man ever to capture an amphibi-
an, which was really something
from the enemy's point of view.
They'd been at war with us for
years, and spent God knows how
many billions of dollars, but
catching us was the first thing
that made any amphibians pay
much attention to thern.

When we got to the town, peo-
ple were leaning out of windows
and waving their flags, and cheer-
ing the soldiers, and hissing
Madge and me. Here were all the
people who didn't want to be
amphibious, who thought it was
terrible for anybody to be am-
phibious — people of all colors,
shapes, sizes, and nationalities,
joined together to fight the am-
phibians.

It turned out that Madge and
I were going to have a big trial.
After being tied up every which
way in jail all night, we were
taken to a court room, where tele-
vision cameras stared at us.

Madge and I were worn to fraz-
zles, because neither one of us

had been cooped up in a body
that long since I don't know
when. Just when we needed to
think more than we ever had, in
jail before the trial, the bodies
developed hunger pains and we
couldn't get them comfortable on
the cots, no matter how we tried;
and, of course, the bodies just
had to have their eight hours
sleep.

The charge against us was a
capital offense on the books of
the enemy — desertion. As far
as the enemy was concerned, the
amphibians had all turned yellow
and run out on their bodies, just
when their bodies were needed to
do brave and important things
for humanity.

We didn't have a hope of being
acquitted. The only reason there
was a trial at all was Jhat it gave
them an opportunity to sound

off about why they were so right

and we were so wrong. The court
room was jammed with their big
brass, all looking angry and brave
and noble.

"Mr. Amphibian," said the
prosecutor, "you are old enough,
aren't you, to remember when all
men had to face up to life in their
bodies, and work and fight for
what they believed in?"

"I remember when the bodies
were always getting into fights,
and nobody seemed to know
why, or how to stop it," I said
politely. "The only thing every -

108

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

body seemed to believe in. was
that they didn't like to fight."

"What would you say of a sol-
dier who ran away in the face of
fire?" he wanted to know.

"I'd say he was scared silly."

"He was helping to lose the
battle, wasn't he?"

"Oh, sure." There wasn't any
argument on that one.

Isn't that what the amphib-
ians have done — run out on the
human race in the face of the
battle of life?"

"Most of us are still alive, if
that's what you mean," I said.

find , and

there I
how to

T was true. We hadn't licked

death, and weren't sure we
wanted to, but we'd certainly
lengthened life something amaz-
ing, compared to the span you
could expect in a body.

"You ran out on your responsi-
bilities!" he said.

"Like you'd run out of a burn-
ing building, sir," I patiently ex-
plained.

"Leaving everyone else to
struggle on alone!"

"They can all get out the same
door that we got out of. You can

all get out any time you want to.
All you do is figure out what you
want and what your body wants,
and concentrate on — "

The judge banged his gavel un-
til I thought he'd split it. Here
they'd burned every copy of Ko-
nigswasser's book they TCould

was giving a
course in now to get out of a
body over a whole television net-
work.

■

"If you amphibians had your
way," said the prosecutor, "every-
body would run out on his re-
sponsibilities, and let life and
progress as we know them disap-
pear completely."

"Why, sure," I agreed. "That's

the point."

"Men would no longer work
for what they believe in?" he
challenged.

"I had a friend back in the old
days who drilled holes in little
square thin gama jigs for seven-
teen years in a factory, and he
never did get a very clear idea
of what they were for. Another

one I knew grew raisins for a

mmM

glassblowing company, and the

■

raisins weren't for anybody to
eat, and he never did find out
why the company bought them.
Things like that make me sick
now that I'm in a body, of course
— and what I used to do for a

living makes me even sicker."

"Then you despise human be-
ings and everything they do," he

said.

"I like them fine

better, than

I ever did before. I just think, it's
a dirty shame what they have. to
do to take care of their bodies.
You ought to get amphibious and
see how happy people can be
when they don't have to worry

UNREADY TO WEAR

109

about where their body's next
meal is coming from, or how to
keep it from freezing in the win-
tertime, or what's going to hap-
pen to them when their body
wears out."

"And that, sir, means the end
of ambition, the end of great-
ness!"

"Oh, I don't know about that,"
I said. "We've got some pretty
great people on our side. They'd
be great in or out of bodies. It's
the end of fear is what it is." I
looked right into the lens of the
•nearest television camera. "And
that's the most wonderful thing
that ever happened to people.

Down came the judge's gavel

again, and the brass started to
shout me down. The television

men turned off their cameras

frantically, and all the spectators,
except for the biggest brass, were
cleared out. I knew I'd really
said something. All anybody
would be getting on his television
set now was organ music.

When the confusion died down,
the judge said the trial was over,
and that Madge and I were guil-
ty of desertion.

NOTHING I could do could
get us in any worse, so I
talked back.

"Now I understand you poor
fish," I said, "You couldn't get
along without fear. That's the
only skill you've got — how to

scare yourselves and other people
into doing things. That's the only

fun you've got, watching people

jump for fear of what you'll do
to their bodies or take away from
their bodies."

Madge got in her two cents'^
worth. "The only way you can

get any response from anybody

is to scare them."

Contempt of court!** said the
judge.

* w

"The only way you can scare

people is if you can keep them
in their bodies," I told him.

The soldiers grabbed Madge
and me and started to drag us
out of the court room.

"This means war!" I yelled.

Everything stopped right there
and the place got very quiet.

We're already at war," said

a general uneasily.

Well, we're not," I answered,

"but we will be, if you don't un-
tie Madge and me this instant."
I Was fierce and impressive in
that field marshal's body.

<*'

"You haven't any weapons,"
said the judge, "no knowhow.
Outside of bodies, amphibians are
nothing."

"If you don't cut us loose by

the time I count ten," I told him,
"the amphibians will occupy the
bodies of the whole kit and ca-
boodle of you and march you
right off the nearest cliff. The
place is surrounded." That was
hog wash, of course, Only one per-

110

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

son can occupy a body at a time,
but the enemy couldn't be sure
of that. "One? Two! Three!"

The general swallowed, turned
white, and waved his hand vague-

ly.

"Cut them loose," he said
weakly.

The soldiers, terrified, too, were
glad to do it. Madge and I were
freed. «

I took a couple of steps, head-
ed my spirit in another direction,

and that beautiful field marshal,
medals and all, went crashing
down the staircase like a grand-
father clock.

I realized that Madge wasn't
with me. She was still in that cop-
per-colored body with the char-
treuse hair and fingernails.

"What's more," I heard her
saying, "in payment for all the
trouble you've caused us, this
body is to be addressed to me
at New York, delivered in good
condition no later than next

Monday."

"Yes, ma'am," said the judge.

HEN we got home, the Pio-
neers' Day Parade was just
breaking up at the local storage
center, and the Parade Marshal
got out of his body and apolo-
gized to me for acting the way he

had*

"Hecfc Herb," I said,
don't need to apologize,
weren't yourself. You were para-

you
You

ding around in a body."

That's the best part of being
amphibious, next to not being
afraid — people forgive you for
whatever fool thing you might
have done in a body.

Oh, there are drawbacks, I
guess, the way there are draw-
backs to everything. We still
have to work off and on, main-
taining the storage centers and
getting food to keep the com-
munity bodies going. But that's
a small drawback, and all the big

drawbacks I ever heard of aren't
real ones, just old-fashioned
thinking by people who can't stop
worrying about things they used
to worry about before they turn-
ed amphibious.

As I say, the oldsters will
probably never get really used
to it. Every so often, I catch my-
self getting gloomy over what

happened to the pay-toilet busi-
ness it took me thirty years to
build.

But the youngsters don't have
any hangovers like that from the
past. They don't even worry
much about something happening
to the storage centers, the way
us oldsters do. *

So I guess maybe that'll be
the next step in evolution — to
break clean like those first am-
phibians who crawled out of the
mud into the sunshine, and who
never did go back to the sea.

KURT VONNEGUT, JR.

UNREADY TO WEAR

111

(continued from page 3)
have value then, for they can be
eaten, worn, bartered for other
commodities. They remain real;
money does not.

This is not what we are experi-
encing today. You'll find personal
difficulties in any time of pros-
perity, just as you'll find
prosperous individuals in any de-
pression, but it is the health of the
economy as a whole that counts,
not the fortune or misfortune of
persons or groups.

There is only a single conclu-
sion to be drawn from the appli-
cation of relativity to economics:

Our system has, with marvel-
ous resiliency, balanced prices
and incomes to such an aston-

ishingly great extent that what-
ever dangers face us, inflation is
not one of them.

NATURALLY, you can count
on the creative mind to
hunt for a story in any given
situation. For example:

We wistfully remember when
steak was 37c a pound, custom-
made suits cost $50, the average
house was .priced under $5000,
and our money was wooed by
desperate offers of bargains.

Those were days, yes, sir! The

good old days — of low prices.

We have considerably more
trouble remembering just how
scarce our money was. We now
work shorter hours to earn a

pound of steak, buy more suits,
and never have so many of us
owned homes.

These, then, are the days — of

high incomes.

All some genius has to do is
give us the incomes of today and
the prices of the past. It can be
done only in fiction, and even
there it would be hard to work
out logically.

There's another psychological
quirk in the situation. Mark
Twain noted it in A Connecticut

Yankee in King Arthur's Court.

If people are offered their

choice of 10c an hour and 10c a

pound, or $1000 an hour and

$1000 a pound, they'll almost in-
variably choose $1000 an hour

and $1000 a pound — even though
there is not the least actual differ-
ence.

Why? I don't know. Maybe be-
cause it feels good to strip big
bills off a thick roll while grum-
bling about what prices used to

be.

The editorial that started all
this fuss began: "You might say
that humanity's slogan is, 'The
obvious we see eventually; the
completely apparent takes long-

er.

L» *

To that paraphrase of the
Army Corps of Engineers' motto,

I should have added: "When you
contradict 'common sense,' keep
your motor* running for a fast
getaway." — H. L. GOLD

112

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

THE NEXT TWELVE ARE SWELL

you could only see what we have in store for the Next 12 Issues,

you'd JET MAIL the coupon below!

We have stories ready to run by ISAAC ASIMOV, H. L GOLD,
TED STURGEON, F. L. WALLACE and stories by BESTER, HEIN-
LEIN, KORNBLUTH, KUTtNER and C L. MOORE in shaping
stage to appear this year in GALAXY, the tops in Science Fiction.

EIGHT out of the next twelve covers are ready, and they are ter-
rific. The covers will introduce three new artists. You will clamor for
more of their work.

WILLY

LEY has lined up some "easy to digest" science articles
that tell about the space station now in development.

ALL IN ALL ... THE NEXT 12 ARE SWELL!

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«i''

THE ROLLING STONES by

Robert Heinlein. Charles Scrib-
ner's Sons, New York, 1952, 276
pages, $2.50

IMES must be getting pretty

bad when the best science fic-
tion of the month is a juvenile.
However, The Rolling Stones
might take leading place even if
the competition was stiff. For
this is one of Heinlein's most de~
lightful tales for young (and old)
about the coming era of space
travel.

It has wit (including some
monstrous puns), richly lifelike
people, believable plot (provided

you grant the premises), some
blistering commentary (as, for
example, the part on the beauties
of our internal combustion mo-
tors!), and an outlook that is
both adventuresome and mature.
The tale tells of a pair of in-
genious 17 -year- old twins named
Castor and Pollux Stone, who are
inventors and haywirers and
some times general nuicances, and
of their travels, with the other
members of the Stone family,
from the Moon clear out to the
Asteroid Belt, with a stop en
route- at Mars.

Mixed up in the astral pottage
is a telepathic youngest brother

v ,

114

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

m r

who always beats his grandma
at chess because he can read her
mind; some unflattering satire on
television space opera (one is be-
ing written by the Stone family,
ostensibly by seasoned spaceman
Roger Stone, but actually as a
collaboration) ; a 90 - year - old
grandma named Hazel, an en-
chanting old adventuress.

The bicycle - repair - shop - in -
space is an incident not easily
forgotten — - nor are the strange

reproductive customs of the Mar-
tian "flat cats," lovable pets,
BUT — !

A thoroughly delightful job.
Don't hesitate to give it to a
youngster. — » or to read it your-
self.

DAVID STARR: SPACE RAN-
GER by Paul French. Double-
day & Co., New York, 1952. 186

pages, $2.50

the villain through a medieval

course of torture by slow poison.

However, violence aside, it is a
thrilling tale.

The plot : foods raised on Mars
are essential to Earth's people,
about 5,000 years from now. Vil-
lains are trying to get control of
the Solar System's government by
submitting Earth's populace to
slow poison. David Starr, young
Council of Science member, goes
to Mars and after many adven-
tures (including his discovery of
the existence of real Martians in
caves far below the planet's sur-
face) pins down the rotters and
frees Earth from threat of extinc-
tion.

Not a girl in a carload; no ro-
mance; parlous little science; but

endless imagination, exciting
ideas and events. A good juvenile
needn't offer more. This would be
good even if it had less to offer.

riiHIS is another rip-snorting
-■- j uvenile by a member of the

profession who certainly knows
what he is doing — Isaac Asimov,
who is hiding behind that
"French" falseface.

This one is strictly for blood -
and-thunder;
word, and (for my taste) a bit
too violent from its first two sen-
tences, "David Starr was staring

right at the man, so he saw it
happen. He saw him die," to its
final episode where the hero puts

"gripping" is the

PLANTS, MAN AND LIFE by
Edgar Anderson. Little Brown &

Co., Boston, 1952. 245 pages,

$4.00

ERE is an item that anyone

who enjoys Willy Ley's nat-
ural history books will not want
to miss. It is right down the sci-
ence fiction lover's lane, telling
an enthralling story of plant ori-
gins, plant variations and plant
mysteries, with special emphasis
on certain common weeds and

* * * • * SHEtF

115

agricultural crop plants.

Admittedly a little heavier than
the popularizations of Ley, this
book by the assistant director of
the Missouri Botanical Garden

and Professor of Botany at Wash-
ington University, St. Louis, is
nevertheless an exciting adven-
ture into a "new continent," the
story of our ordinary plants.

For once I can agree with a
jacket blurb: "Probably not since
the time of Darwin has there been
a book more intelligible to the
general reader, which was also of
direct significance in the realm of

science.

»?

THE STARMEN by Leigh
Bracket t. Gnome Press, New
York, 1952. 213 pages, $2.75

ISS BRACKETT'S first

novel in hard covers is a
pleasurable way of passing a cou-
ple of hours. She writes well,
moves her plot along at a suit-
able pace, and maneuvers her

characters in a lifelike manner.
The story deals with an Amer-
ican, Michael Trehearne, who
discovers that he is one of an
alien world of mutants whose
mutation is such that they are
able to stand the physical effects
of acceleration for interstellar
flight. The discovery is strange
indeed, and so is life on the hid-
den spaceship of the Vardda, as
the mutants are called.

Trehearne leaves Earth and be-
comes an accepted Varddan.
There is a beautiful girl, Shairn;
a villain, Kerrel; and a plot which
involves the efforts of a certain
group to give the secret of star
flight to all people of the Uni-
verse, removing it from the status

of a Varddan monopoly. Every-
thing comes out right in the end,
of course.

DOG IN THE SKY by Norman
Corwin. Illustrated by Tibor Ger-
gely. Simon & Schuster, New
York] 1952. 156 pages, $3.00

N THIS whimsy about the
Galaxy, Runyon Jones, aged
10, sets out to locate Curgatory,
where his dog, Pootzy, went after

being run over by an auto. It is

imaginative, gently spoofs BEMS
and other science fiction cliches,
and it is occasionally rather sharp
on the inequities of rules-and-
regulations, bureaucrats, and so

on.

Among the characters, pleasant
and otherwise, whom you will

meet are Mother Nature, B. L. Z.
Bubbr Father Time, and the
Giant.

It's all rather cute, but (except
once or twice) not sickeningly so.
Fun for those who like Stuart
Little by E. B. White, or The
White Deer by James Thurber —
though not approaching those two
pluperfect gems.

116

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

PRISONER IN THE SKULL by it, and the story might have been

Charles Dye. Abelard Press, New
York, 1952. 256 pages, $2.50

THERE are 21 chapters in this
book. By the end of Chapter.
10, every important character ex-
cept the hero, the mystery wo-
man, the watchman and "Hypo
Ned" have been bumped off. A
few pages later, the watchman is
found dead, half a dozen other
supernumeraries have been per-
manently disposed of or conked

on the bean.

At the end, after roughly a
dozen more completely uncalled-
for murders of unimportant peo-
ple, one finds that practically no
one is left except the hero, who
has bumped off Hypo N^d, and
the mystery woman, who takes
over the hero with the following
ineffable phrases which close the
book: "You need someone to
watch you," she finally said . . .
"To kill you, of course . . ." And
the last three words: "Their lips

met."

There is no real story behind
all this pointless mayhem, al-
though there was a good idea.
The purpose was to show a ruth-
less telepath— only one — trying
to take over the world and run it
as he wishes. If ruthless enough,
such a telepath could certainly do

fascinating.

But here it is so buried in
blood, bruises, cut lips, knock-
outs, "stungunned" roughs, tor-
tures and murders that before
long you realize it's an evasion
instead of a plot.

DROME by John Martin Leahy.
Fantasy Publishing Co., Inc., Los

Angeles, 1952. 295 pages, $3.00

EET one of those varicosed
imitations of A. Merritt
that proliferated during the 1920s
and that always made Merritt, a
pretty purple writer himself , seem
restrained.

Drome is one of the poorest of
the imitations— weak in concept,
in plot, in characterizations, in
style of writing. There is liter-
ally no reason for its being hauled
lifeless out of the obscurity of the
magazine files.

Briefly, Drome tells of one
more underworld, this one en-
tered through a crevasse in the
upper reaches of Mount Rainier
in the state of Washington. By
page 212, one has still not reach-
ed Drome and boredom has set
in. It is not relieved until page
295, which is where the book

ends.

GROFF CONKLIN

• • • • • SHELF

117

The Sentimentalists

Vfo'.

wi-mm%&

118

HADAMPSICUS and No-
dalictha were on their
honeymoon, and conse-
quently they were sentimental.
To be sure, it would not have
been easy for humans to imagine
sentiment as existing between
them. Humans would hardly as-
sociate tenderness with glances
cast from sets of sixteen eyes
mounted on jointed eye stalks,

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

By MURRAY LEINSTER

You do not always have to go looking for a
guardian angel. He may be looking for you

— but perhaps for somebody else's benefit!

Illustrated by HUNTER

nor link langorous thrills with a
coy mingling of positronic repul-
sion blasts — even when the emis-
sion of positron blasts from
beneath one's mantle was one's
normal personal mode of locomo-
tion. And when two creatures
like Rhadampsicus and Nodalic-
tha stood on what might be
roughly described as their heads
and twined their eye stalks to-

gether, so that they gazed fondly
at each other with all sixteen eyes
at once, humans would not have

thought of it as the equivalent of
a loving kiss. Humans would

have screamed and run — if they
were not paralyzed by the mere
sight of such individuals.

Nevertheless, they were a very
happy pair and they were very
sentimental, and it was probably

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

119

a good thing, considered from all
angles. They were still newlyweds
on their wedding tour — they had
been married only seventy-five
years before — when they passed
by the sun that humans call Cetis
Gamma.

Rhadampsicus noted its pecu-
liarity. He was anxious, of course*

for their honeymoon to be mem-
orable in every possible way. So
he pointed it out to Nodalictha

and explained what was shortly
to be expected. She listened with
a bride's rapt admiration of her
new husband's wisdom. Perceiv-
ing his scientific interest, she sug-
gested shyly that they stop and
watch.

HADAMPSICUS scanned

the area. There were planets
— inner ones, and then a group of
gas giants, and then a very cosy
series of three outer planets with
surface temperatures ranging
from three to seven degrees Kel-
vin.

They changed course and land-
ed on the ninth planet out, where

the landscape was delightful.
Rhadampsicus unlimbered his
traveling kit and prepared a
bower. Nitrogen snow rose and
swirled and consolidated as he
deftly shifted force-pencils. When
the tumult subsided, there was a
snug if primitive cottage for the
two of them to dwell in while
they waited for Cetis Gamma to they called themselves was "men."

accomplish its purpose.

Nodalictha cried out softly
when she entered the bower. She
was fascinated by its complete-
ness. There was even running
liquid hydrogen from a little rill
nearby. And over the doorway,
as an artistic and appropriate

touch, Rhadampsicus had put
his own and Nodalictha's initials,
pricked out in amber chlorine
crystals and intertwined within
the symbol which to them meant
a heart. Nodalictha embraced him
fondly for his thoughtfulness. Of
course, no human would have
recognized it as an embrace, but
that did not matter.

Happily, then, they settled
down to observe the phenomenon
that Cetis Gamma would present-
ly display. They scanned the gas
giant planets together, and then
the inner ones.

On the second planet out from
the sun, they perceived small bi-
ped animals busily engaged in
works of primitive civilization.
Nodalictha was charmed. She
asked eager questions, and Rha-
dampsicus searched his memory
and told her that the creatures
were not well known, but had
been observed before. Limited in

every way by their physical con-
stitution, they had actually
achieved a form of space travel
by means of crude vehicles. He

believed, h£ said, that the name

120

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

^T*HE sun rose slowly in the
■*■ east, and Lon Simpson swore

he tried for the

patiently
eighteenth time to get the gen-
erator back again in a fashion to
make it work. His tractor waited
in the nearby field. The fields
waited. Over in Cetopolis, the
scales and storesheds waited, and
somewhere there was doubtless a
cargo ship waiting for a space -
gram to summon it to Cetis
Gamma Two for a load of thanar
leaves. And of course people
everywhere waited for thanar
leaves.

A milligram a day kept old
age away — which was not an ad-
vertising slogan but sound, prac-
tical geriatric science. But thanar
leaves would only grow on Cetis
Gamma Two, and the law said
that all habitable planets had to
be open for colonization and land
could not be withheld from
market.

There was too much popula-
tion back on Earth, anyhow.
Therefore the Cetis Gamma
Trading Company couldn't make
a planetwide plantation and keep

thanar as a monopoly, but *could
only run its own plantation for
research and instruction pur-
poses for new colonists. Colonists
had to be admitted to the planet,
and they had to be sold land.
But there are' ways of getting
around every law.

Lon Simpson swore. The Diesel

of his tractor ran a generator.
The generator ran the motors in
the tractor's catawheels. But this
was the sixth time in a month
that the generator had broken
down, and generators do not
break down.

Lon put it together for the
eighteenth time this breakdown,
and it still wouldn't work. There
was nothing detectably wrong
with it, but he couldn't make it
work.

Seething, he walked back to his
neat, prefabricated house. He
picked up the beamphone. Even

Cathy's voice at the exchange in

Cetopolis could not soothe him,
he was so furious.

"Cathy, give me Carson — and
don't listen!" he said tensely.

He heard clickings on the two-

way beam.

"My generator's gone," he said
sourly when Carson answered.
"I've repaired it twice this week.
It looks like it was built to stop
working! What is this all about,
anyhow?"

The representative of the Cetis
Gamma Trading Company
sounded bored.

"You want a new generator
sent out?" he asked without in-
terest. "Your crop credit's still
all right — if the fields are in good
shape/'

"I want machinery that
works!" Lon Simpson snapped.
"I want machinery that doesn't

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

121

have to be bought four times
over a growing season! And I
want it at a decent price!"

"Look, those generators come
out from Earth. There's freight
on them. There's freight on every-
thing that comes out from Earth.
You people come to a developed
planet, you buy your land, your
•machinery, your house, and you
get instruction in agriculture. Do

you want the company to tuck
you in bed at night besides? Do
you want a new generator or

not?"

"How much?" demanded Lon.
When Carson told him, he hit the
ceiling. "It's robbery! Wbat'll I
have left for my crop if I buy

that?" * . .

^ARSON'S

voice was

still

bored. "If you buy it and your
crop's up to standard, you'll owe
the crop plus three hundred cred-
its. But we'll stake you to next
growing season."

"And if I don't?" demanded
Lon. "Suppose I don't give you
all my work for nothing and
wind up in debt?" * .

"By contract," Carson told him,

"we've got the right to finish cul-
tivating your crop and charge
you for the work because we've
advanced you credit on it. Then
we attach your land, and house
for the balance due. And you get
no more credit at the Company
stores. And passage off this planet

has to be paid for in cash." He
yawned. "Don't answer now," he
said without interest. "Call me
back after you calm down. You'd
ly hsnre to apologize."

Lon Simpson heard the click
as he began to describe, heatedly,
what was in his mind.* He said
it anyhow. Then Cathy's voice
came from the exchange. She *
sounded shocked but

sympa-'

thetic. ,

"Lon! Please!"

swallowed

a particularly
inventive description of the man-
ners, morals and ancestry *6f all
the directors and employees of
the Cetis Gamma Trading Com-
pany. Then he said, still fuming,
"I told you not to listen!"

His wrongs overcame him

again. "It's robbery! It's peon-
age! They've got every credit I
had! They've got three-quarters
of the value of my crop charged
up for replacements of the lousy
machinery they sold me*— and
now I'll end the growing season
in debt! How am I going to ask

you to marry me?"

"Not over a beamphone, I

hope," said Cathy.

He was abruptly sunk in gloom.

"That was a slip," he admitted.
"I was going to wait until I got
paid for my crop. It looked
good. Now — "

"Wait a minute, Lon," Cathy
said. There was silence. She gave
somebody else a connection.

,ir

* #

* -

tfr

-. J. L I

iv
S

.Jr.

. m

1
■f

* ->i

122

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

The phone-beams from the cure thanar leaves for the Corn-

colony farms all went to Cetop-
olis and Cathy was one of the
two operators there. If or when
the colony got prosperous enough,
there would be a regular inter-
communication system. So it was
said. Meanwhile, Lon had a sus-
picion that there might be an-
other reason for the antiquated
central station.

Cathy said brightly, '
Lon?"

<<T>

111 come in to town tonight,"
he said darkly. "Date?"

"Y-yes," stammered Cathy.

"Oh, yes!"

He hung up and went back
out to the field and the tractor.
He began to think sourly of a
large number of things all at

once. There was a law to en-
courage people to leave Earth for
colonies on suitable planets.
There was even governmental
help for people who didn't have
funds of their own. But if a man
wanted to make something of
himself, he preferred to use his
own money and pick his own
planet and choose his own way of
life.

Lon Simpson had bought four
hectares of land on Cetis Gamma
Two. He'd paid his passage out.
He'd given five hundred credits
a month for an instruction course
on the Company's plantation,
during which time he'd labored
faithfully to grow, harvest, and

pany's profit. Then he'd bought
farm machinery from the Com-

and a house — and

pany-

very

painstakingly had set out to be
a colonist on his own.

UST about that time, Cathy

had arrived on a Company

ship and taken up her duties as
beamphone operator at Cetopolis.
It was a new colony, with not
more than five thousand humans
on the whole planet, all of them
concentrated near the one small
town with its plank sidewalks
and prefabricated buildings. Lon
Simpson met Cathy, and his la-
bors on his thanar farm acquired
new energy and purpose.

But he was up against a shrewd
organization. His inordinately ex-
pensive farm machinery broke
down. He repaired it. After a
time it could not be repaired any
longer and he had to buy more.
Before the thanar plants were half
grown, he owed more than half
his prospective crop for machin-
ery replacements.

Now he could see the method
perfectly. The Company imported
all machinery. It made that ma-
chinery in its own factories,
machinery that was designed to
break down. So this year— even
if nothing else happened — Lon

would wind up owing more for
machinery replacements than the
crop would bring.

THE SENTIME NT A L I S T S

123

It was not likely that nothing
else would happen. Next season
he would start off in debt, instead
of all clear, and if the same thing
happened he would owe all his

crop and be six thousand credits
behind. By harvest after next, his
farm and house could be fore-
closed for debt and he could

■ ■

either try to work for other colon-

* ■

ists — who were in the process of
going through the same wringer
themselves — or hire out as a

farmhand on the Company's
plantation. He would never be
able to save space-fare away from
the planet. He would be very
much worse off than the assisted
emigrants to other planets, who
had not invested all they owned
in land and machinery and agri-
cultural instructions.

And there was Cathy. She owed
for her passage. It would be

years before she could pay that
back, if ever. She couldn't live
in the farmhand barracks. They
might as well give up thinking
about each other.

It was a system. Beautifully
legal, absolutely airtight. Not a
thing wrong with it. The Com-
pany* had a monopoly on thanar,
despite the law. It had all the
cultivated land on Cetis Gamma
Two under its control, and its

labor problem was .solved. Its
laborers first paid something like
sixteen thousand credits a head
for the privilege of trying to farm

independently for a year or two,
and then became farmhands for
the Company at a bare subsist-
ence wage.

Lon Simpson was in the grip of
that system. He had taken the
generator apart and put it back
together eighteen times. There
was nothing visibly wrong with it.
It had been designed to break
down with nothing visibly wrong
with it. I£ he couldn't repair it,
though, he was out fifteen hun-
dred credits, his investment was
wiped out, and all his hopes w^ere
gone.

He took the generator apart for
the nineteenth time. He wondered
grimly how the Company's de-
signers made generators so clever-
ly that they would stop working
so that even the trouble with
them couldn't be figured out. It
was a very ingenious system.

UT on the ninth planet,

Rhadampsicus explained the
situation to his bride as they
waited for the interesting astro-

nomical phenomenon. They were
quite cosy, waiting. Their bower
was simple, of course. Frozen
nitrogen walls, and windows of
the faint bluish tint of oxygen ice.
Rhadampsicus had grown some

cyanogen flower-crystals to make
the place look homelike, and
there was now a lovely reflection-
pool in which liquid hydrogen
reflected the stars. Cetis Gamma,

■r

* ■ ■

i , .

124

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

the local sun, seemed hardly more

than a very bright and very near
star — it was four light -hours
away — and it glimmered over the
landscape and made everything
quite charming.

Nodalictha, naturally, would
not enter the minds of the male
bipeds on the inner planet. Mod-
esty forbade such a thing — as, of
course, the conscientiousness of
a brand-new husband limited
Rhadampsicus to the thoughts of
the males among the* bipeds. But

Nodalictha was distressed when
Rhadampsicus told her of what
was occurring among the bipeds.
He guided her thoughts to Cathy,
in the beamphone exchange at
Cetopolis.

"But it is terrible!" said Noda-
lictha in distress when she had
absorbed Cathy's maiden medi-
tations. She did not actually
speak in words and soundwaves.
There is no air worth mentioning
at seven degrees Kelvin. Its all
frozen. A little helium hangs
around, perhaps. Nothing else.
The word for communication is
not exactly the word for speech,
but it will do. Nodalictha said,
"They love each other! In a cute
way, they are like — like we were,
Rhadampsicus!"

Rhadampsicus played a posi-
tron-beam on her in feigned in-
dignation. If that beam had hit
a human, the human would have
curled up in a scorched, smoking

heap. But Nodalictha bridled.

"Rhadampsicus!" she protest-
ed fondly. "Stop tickling me ! But
can't you do 4 something for them?

They are so cute!"

And Rhadampsicus gallantly
sent his thoughts back to the
second planet, where a biped
grimly labored over a primitive
device.

ON Simpson, staring at the
disassembled generator, sud-
denly blinked. The grimness went
out of his expression. He stared.
An idea had occurred to him. He
went over it in his mind. He blew
out his breath in a long whistle.
Then, very painstakingly, he did
four or five things that complete-
ly ruined the generator for the

extremely modest trade-in allow-
ance he could have gotten for it
at the Company store.

He worked absorbedly for per-
haps twenty minutes, his eyes in-
tent. At the end pf that time he
had threads of unwound second-
ary wire stretched back and forth
across a forked stick of dhil weed,
and two small pieces of sheet iron
twisted together in an extremely
improbable manner. He connect-
ed the ends of the secondary wire
to contacts in his tractor. He
climbed into the tractor seat. He
threw over the drive control.

The tractor lurched into mo-
tion. The Diesel wasn't running.
But the tractor rolled comfort-

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

125

ably as Lon drove it, the individ-
ual motors in the separate
catawheels drawing power from a
mere maze of wires across a
forked stick — plus two pieces of
sheet iron. There was plenty of
power.

Lon drove the tractor the rest
of the morning and all afternoon
with a very peculiar expression
on his face. He understood what
he had done. Now that he had
done it, it seemed the most
obvious of expedients. He felt in-
clined to be incredulous that no-
body had ever happened to think
of this particulars-device before.
But they very plainly hadn't. It
was a source of all the electric
power anybody could possibly
want. The voltage would depend
on the number of turns of copper
wire around a suitably forked
stick. The amperage would be

whatever that voltage could put
through whatever was hooked to

it.

He no longer needed a new
generator for his tractor. He had
one.

He didn't even need a Diesel.

With adequate power — he'd
been having to nurse the Diesel
along, too, lately — Lon Simpson
ran his tractor late into the twi-
light. He cultivated all the ground
that urgently needed .cultivation,
and at least one field he hadn't
hoped to get to before next week.
But his expression was amazed.

It is a very peculiar sensation to
discover that one is a genius.

THAT night,
told Cathy all about it.

in Cetopolis, he

was a very warm night — an un-
usually warm night. They walked
along the plank sidewalks of the
little frontier town — as a new
colony, Cetis Gamma Two was a
frontier — and Lon talked extrava-
gantly..

He had meant to explain pain-
fully to Cathy that there wasC.no
use in their being romantic about
each other. He'd expected to have
to tell - her bitterly that he was
doomed to spend the rest of his
life adding to the profits of the
Cetis Gamma Trading Company,
with all the laws of the human
race holding him in peonage. He'd
thought of some very elegant de-
scriptions of the sort of people
who'd worked out the system in
force on Cetis Gamma" Two.

But he didn't. As they strolled
under the shiver trees that lined
the small town's highways, and
smelled the chartel bushes beyond

the town's limits, and listened to
the thin violinlike strains of what
should have been night birds-
they weren't; the singers were
furry instead of feathered, and
they slept in burrows during the
day — as they walked with linked
fingers in the warm and starlit
night, Lon told Cathy about his
invention.

126

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

He explained in detail just why
wires wound in just that fashion,
and combined with bits of sheet
iron twisted in just those shapes,
would produce power for free and
forever. He explained how it had
to be so. He marveled that no-
body had ever thought of it be-
fore. He explained it so that
Cathy could almost understand
it.

It's wonderful!" she said wist-
fully. " They'll run spaceships on
your invention, won't they, Lon?
And cities? And everything! I
guess you'll be very rich for in-
venting it!"

He stopped short and stared at
her. He hadn't thought that far
ahead. Then he said blankly:

"But I'll have to get back to
Earth to patent it! And I haven't
got the money to pay one fare, let
alone two!"

"Two?'.' asked Cathy hopeful-
ly. "Why two?"

You're going to marry me,
aren't you?" he demanded. "I

sort of hope that was all set-
tled."

Cathy stamped her foot.

"Hadn't you heard," she asked
indignantly, "that such things
aren't taken for granted? Espe-
cially when two people are walk-
ing in the starlight and are
supposed to be thrilled? It isn't
settled — not until after

you ye

kissed me, anyhow!"
He remedied his error.

UT on the ninth planet, very

far away, Nodalictha blush-
ed slightly. As a bride, she was
in that deliciously embarrassing
state of becoming accustomed to
discussions which would previ-
ously have been unconventional.

"They are so quaint!" Then she
hesitated and said awkwardly,
"The idea of putting their— their

lips together as a sign of affec-
tion—"

Rhadarnpsicus was amused, as
a bridegroom may be by the de r
lightful innocences of a new wife.
He evinced his amusement in a
manner no human being could
conceivably have recognized as
the tender laugh it was.

"Little goose!" he said fondly.
Of course, instead of a fowl, he
thought of a creature that had
thirty -four legs and scales instead
of feathers and was otherwise
thoroughly ungooselike. "Little
goose, they do that because they
can't do this!"

And he twined his eye stalks
sentimentally about hers.

AYS passed on Cetis Gamma

Two. Lon Simpson cultivat-
ed his thanar fields. But he be-
gan to worry. His new power
source was more than a repair
for a broken-down tractor. It was
valuable. It was riches! He had
in it one of those basic, over-
whelmingly important discoveries
by which human beings have

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

127

climbed up from the status of in-

telligent Earthbound creatures to
galactic colonists — And a lot of

good it had done them!

It was a basic principle for
power supply that woutd relieve
mankind permanently of the bur-
den of fuels. The number of plan-
ets available for colonization
would be multiplied. The cost of
every object made by human be-
ings would be reduced by the
previous cost of power. The price
of haulage from one planet to
another would be reduced to a
fraction. Every member of the
human race would become richer

as a result of the gadget now at-
tached to Lon Simpson's tractor.
He was entitled to royalties on
the wealth he was to distribute.
But ...

He was a thanar farmer on
Cetis Gamma Two. His crop was
mortgaged. He could not possibly
hope to raise enough money to
get back to Earth to arrange for
the marketing of his invention.
Especially, he could not conceiv-
ably raise money enough to take
Cathy with him. He had riches,

but they weren't available. And

something else might happen to

ruin him at any time.

Something else did. The freezer
element of his deep-freeze locker
broke down. He didn't notice it.
He had a small kitchen locker in
which food for week-to-week use
was stored. He didn't know any-

thing about the deep-freeze unit
that held a whole growing sea-
son's supply of food. The food in
it — all imported from Earth and
very expensive — thawed, ferment-
ed, spoiled, developed evil smell-
ing gases, and waited for an
appropriate moment to reveal it-
self as a catastrophe.

There were other things to wor-
ry about at the time. A glacier up
at Cetis Gamma Two's polar re-
gion began to retreat, instead of
growing as was normal for the

■ f m

season. There was a remarkable
solar prominence of three days*
duration swinging around the
equator of the local sun. There
was a meeting of directors of the
Cetis Gamma Trading Company,
at which one of the directors
pointed out that the normal curve
of increase for profits was begin-
ning to flatten out, and something
had to be done to improve the
financial position of the com-

■

pany. Ugly sun-spots appeared
on the northern hemisphere of
Cetis Gamma. If there had been
any astronomers on the job, there
would have been as much excite-
ment as a four alarm fire. But
there were no astronomers.

The greatest agitation on the
second planet of Cetis Gamma
Two was felt by Lon Simpson.

Cathy had made friends with a
married woman colonist who
would chaperon her on a visit to
Lon's farm, and was coming

128

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

•*

out to visit and see the place that
was to be the scene of the inef-
fable, unparalleled happiness she
and Lon would know after they
were married.

She came, she saw, she was
captivated. Lon blissfully opened
the door of the house she was to
share. He had spent the better
part of two days cleaning up so
it would be fit for her to look at.
Cathy entered. There was a dull,
booming noise, a hissing, and a,
bubbling, and then a rank stench
swept through the house and
strangled them.

ri^HE boom, of course, was the

■*" bursting open of the deep-
freeze locker from the pressure
of accumulated gases within it.
The smell was that of the deep-
freeze contents, ten days thawed
out without Lon knowing it.
There are very few smells much
worse than frozen fish gone very,
very bad in a hot climate. If there

are worse smells, they come from
once-frozen eggs bursting from
their shells when pressure outside
them is relieved. In this case,
trimmings were added by fer-
menting strawberries, moldy meat
and badly decayed vegetables,
all triumphantly making them-
selves known at the same instant.
Cathy gasped and choked. Lon
got her out of doors, gasping him-
self. It was not difficult to deduce
what had happened.

He opened the house windows
from the outside, so the smell
could go away. But he knew des-
pair.

* I— can't show you the house,
Cathy," he said numbly. "My
locker went bad and all the food
followed suit."

"Lon!" wailed Cathy. "It's ter-
rible! How will you eat?"

Lon began to realize that the
matter was more serious than the
loss of an opportunity for a sen-
timental inspection of the house.
He had dreamed splendidly, of
late. He didn't quite know how
he was going to manage it, but
since his tractor was working

magnificently he had come to
picture himself and Cathy in the
role of successful colonists, zest-
fully growing thanar leaves for
the increasing multitudes of peo-
ple who needed a milligram a
day.

He'd reverted to the pictured
dreams in the Cetis Gamma
Trading Company's advertise-
ments. He'd daydreamed of him-
self and Cathy as growing with
the colony, thriving as it throve,
and ultimately becoming moder-
ately rich — in children and grand-
children, anyhow — with life
stretching out before them in a
sort of rosy glow. He'd negligent-
ly assumed that somehow they
would also be rich from the roy-
alties on his invention. But now
he came down to reality.

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

129

His house was uninhabitable
for the time being. He could con-
tinue to cultivate his fields, but
he wouldn't be able to eat. The
local plant-life was not suitable
for human digestion. He had to
live on food imported from
Earth. Now he had to buy a new
stock from the Company, and it
would bankrupt him.

With an invention worth more

■probably — than the Cetis Gam-
ma Company itself, if he could
realize on it, he still was broke.
His crop was mortage d. If Car-
son learned about his substitute
for a generator, the Company
would immediately clamp down
to get it away from him.

He took Cathy back to Ceto-
polis. He feverishly appealed to

other colonists. He couldn't tell
them about his generator substi-
tute. If they knew about it, in
time Carson would know. If they
used it, Carson would eventually
get hold of a specimen, to send
back to Earth for pirating by the
Cetis Gamma Trading Company.
All Lon could do was try des-
perately to arrange to borrow
food to live on until his crop
came in, though even then he
wouldn't be in any admirable

situation.

He couldn't borrow food in
quantity. Other colonists had
troubles, too. They'd give him a
meal, yes, but they couldn't refill
his freezer without emptying

their own. Which would compel,
them to buy more. Which would
be charged against their crops.
Which would simply hasten the
day when they * would become
day-laborers on the Company's
thanar farm.

Lon had about two days* food
in the kitchen locker. He deter-
mined to stretch it to four. Then
he'd have to buy more. With each
meal, then, his hopes of freedom
and prosperity — and Cathy —

grew less.

Of course, he could starve ...

HADAMPSICUS was enor-
mously and pleasantly inter-
ested in what went on in Cetis
Gamma's photosphere. From the
ninth planet, he scanned the

prominences with enthusiasm,
making notes. Nodalictha tried to
take a proper wifely interest in
her husband's hobby, but she
could not keep it up indefinitely.
She busied herself with her
housekeeping. She fashioned a
carpet of tufted methane fibres
and put up curtains at the win-
dows. She enlarged the garden
Rhadampsicus had made, adding
borders of crystallized ammonia
and a sort of walkway with a
hedge of monoclinic sulphur
which glittered beautifully in the
starlight. She knew that this was
only a temporary dwelling, but
she wanted Rhadampsicus to rea-
lize that she, could make any

130

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

place a comfortable home.

He remained absorbed in the
phenomena of the local sun. One
great prominence, after five days
of spectacular existence, divided
into two which naturally moved
apart and stationed themselves
at opposite sides of the sun's
equator. They continued to ro-
tate with the sun itself, giving
very much the effect of an incipi-
ent pin wheel. Two other minor
prominences came into being
midway between them. Rha-
dampsicus watched in fascina-
tion.

Nodalictha came and reposed
beside him on a gentle slope of
volcanic slag. She waited for him
to notice her. She would not let
herself be sensitive about his in-
terest in his hobby, of course,
but she could not really find it
absorbing for herself. A trifle
wistfully, she sent her thoughts

to the female biped on the second
planet.

After a while she said in dis-
tress, "Rhadampsicus ! Oh, they

are so unhappy!"

Rhadampsicus gallantly turn-
ed his attention from the happen-
ings on the sun.

"What's that, darling?"
"Look!" said Nodalictha plain-
tively. "They are so much in
love, Rhadampsicus! *And they
can't marry because he hasn't
anything edible to. share with

her!" ■ *

Rhadampsicus scanned. He
was an ardent and sentimental
husband. If his new little wife
was distressed about anything at
all, Rhadampsicus was splen-
didly ready to do something
about it.

ON SIMPSON looked at his
kitchen locker. The big deep-
freezer was repaired now. Once
a season, a truck came out from
Cetopolis and filled it. The food
was costly. A season's supply was
kept in deep-freeze. Once in one
or two weeks, one refilled the
kitchen locker. It was best to
leave the deep -freeze locker
closed as much as possible. But
now the big deep-freeze was
empty. He'd cleaned out the
ghastly mess in it, and he had it
running again, but he had noth-
ing to put in it. To have it re-
filled would put him hopelessly
at the Company's mercy, but
there was nothing else to do.

Bitterly, he called the Trading
Company office, and Carson an-
swered.

"This is Simpson," Lon told
him. "How much — "

"The price for a generator,"
sltid Carson, bored, "is the same
as before. Do you want it sent
out?" —

"No! My food locker broke
down. My food store spoiled. I
need more."

"I'll figure it," replied Carson

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

131

over the beamphone. He didn't

seem interested. After a moment,

he said indifferently, "Fifteen

hundred credits for standard ra-

tions to crop time. "Then you'll
need

more.

"It's robbery!" raged Lon. '
can't expect more than four thou-
sand credits for my crop! You've
got three thousand charged
against me now!"

Carson yawned. "True. A new

generator, fifteen hundred ; new
food supplies fifteen hundred. If
your crop turns out all right,
you'll start the new season with
two thousand credits charged up
as a loan against your land."

Lon Simpson strangled on his
fury. "You'll take all my leaves
and I'll still owe you! Then credit
for seed and food and — If I need
to buy more machinery, you'll
own my farm and crop next crop

time! Even if my crop is good!
Your damned Company will own

my farm!"

"That's your lookout," Carson

said without emotion. "Being a

thanar farmer was your idea, not
mine. Shall I send out the food?"

Lon Simpson bellowed into the
beamphone. He heard clicking,
then Cathy's voice. It was at on«e
reproachful and sympathetic.

"Lon! Please!"

UT Lon couldn't tark to her.

He panted at her, and hung
up. It is essential to a young man

in love that he shine, somehow, in
the eyes of the girl he cares for.
Lon was not shining. He was ap-
pearing as the Galaxy's prize sap.
He'd invested a sizable fortune
in his farm. He was a good farm-
er — hard-working and skilled. In
the matter of repairing genera-
tors, he'd proved to be a genius.
But he was at the mercy of the
Cetis Gamma Company's repre-
sentative. He was already in debt.
If he wanted to go on eating, he'd
go deeper. If he were careful and
industrious and thrifty, the Trad-
ing Company would take his crop
and farm in six more months and
then give him a job at day -labor
wages.

He went grimly to the kitchen
of his home. He looked at the
trivial amount of food remaining.
He was hungry. He could eat it
all right now.

If he did—

Then, staring at the food in
the kitchen locker, he blinked. An

idea had occurred to him. He was
blankly astonished at it. He went
over and over it in his mind. His
expression became dubiously
skeptical, and then skeptically
amazed. But his eyes remained
intent as he thought.

Presently, looking very skepti-
cal indeed, he went out of the
house and unwound more copper
wire from the remnant of the dis-

assembled

generator, ne came
back to the kitchen. He took an

132

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

emptied tin can and cut it in a
distinctly peculiar manner. The

cuts he made were asymmetrical.

When he had finished, he looked

at it doubtfully.

A long time later he had made

a new gadget. It consisted of two
open coils, one quite large and

one quite small. Their resem-
blance to each other was plain,
but they did not* at all resemble
any other coils that had been
made for any other purpose what-
soever. If they looked like any-
thing, it was the "mobiles" that
some sculptors once insisted were
art.

Lon stared at his work with an
air of helplessness. Then he went
out again. He returned with the
forked stick that had proved to
be a generator. He connected the
wires from that improbable con-
trivance to the coils of the new
and still .more unlikely device.
The eccentrically cut tin can
was in the middle, between them.

There was a humming sound.
Lon went out a third time and
came back with a mass of shrub-
bery. He packed it in the large

coil.

He muttered to himself, "I'm
out of my head! I'm crazy!"

But then he went to the kitch-
en locker. He put a small pack-
et of frozen green peas in the tin
can between the two coils.

The humming sound increased.
After a moment there was an-

other parcel of green peas— -not
frozen — in the small coil.

Lon took it out. The device
hummed more loudly again. Im-
mediately there was another par-
cel of green peas in the small
coil. He took them out.

When he had six parcels of
green peas instead of one, the
mass of foliage in the large coil
collapsed abruptly. Lon discon-
nected the wires and removed the
debris. The native foliage looked
shrunken, somehow, dried-out.
Lon tossed it through the win-
dow.

E put a parcel of unfrozen

green peas on to cook and
sat down and held his head in his
hands. He knew what had hap-
pened. He knew how.

The local flora on Cetis Gam-
ma Two naturally contained the
same chemical elements as the
green peas imported from Earth.
Those elements were combined in
chemical ^compounds similar, if
not identical to, those of the
Earth vegetation. The new gad-
get simply converted the com-
pounds in the large coil to match

those in the sample — -in the tin
can — and assembled them in the
small coil according to the phy-
sical structure of the sample. In
this case, as green peas.

The device would take any ap-
proximate compound from the
large coil and reassemble it

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

133

suitably modified as per sample
— in the small coil. It would work

not only for green peas, but for
roots, barks, herbs, berries, blos-
soms and flowers.

It would even work for thanar
leaves.

When that last fact occurred to
him, Lon Simpson went quietly
loony, trying to figure out how he
had come to think of such a thing.
He was definitely crocked, be-
cause he picked up the beam-
phone and told Cathy all about
it. And he was not loony because
he told Cathy, but because he
forgot his earlier suspicions of
why there was a central station
for beamphones in Cetopolis, in-
stead of a modern direct- com-
munication system.

In fact, he forgot the system in
operation on Cetis Gamma Two
—the Company's system. It had
been designed to put colonists
through the wringer and deposit

them at its own farm to be day-
laborers forever with due regard
to human law. But it was a very

efficient system.

It took care of strokes of gen-
ius, too.

That night, Carson, listening

boredly to the record of all the
conversations over the beam-
phone during the day, heard what
Lon had told Cathy. He didn't
believe it, of course.

But he made a memo to look
into it.

H AD AMPSI CUS stretched

himself. Out on the ninth
planet, the weather was slightly
warmer — almost six degrees Kel-
vin, two hundred and sixty-odd
degrees centigrade below zero
and he was inclined to be lazy.
But he was very handsome, in
Nodalictha's- eyes. He was seven-

134

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

ty or more feet from his foremost
eye stalk to the tip of his least

crimson appendage, and he fluor-
esced beautifully in the starlight.
He was a very gallant young
bridegroom.

When he saw Nodalictha look-
ing at him admiringly, he said
with his customary tenderness:

"It was fatiguing to make him
go through it, darling, but since
you wished it, it is done. He now
has food to share with the fe-
male."

■

"And you're handsome, too,
Rhadampsicus!" Nodalictha said
irrelevantly.

She felt as brides sometimes do

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

135

on their honeymoons. She was
quite sure that she had not only
the bravest and handsomest of
husbands, but the most thought-
ful and considerate.

Presently, with their eye stalks
intertwined, he asked softly:

"Are you weary of this place,
darling? I would like to watch
the rest of this rather rare phe-
nomenon, but if you're not inter-
ested, we can go on. And truly
I won't mind."

"Of course we'll stay!" protest-
ed Nodalictha. "I want to do

anything you want to. I'm per-
fectly happy just being with
you."

And, unquestionably, she was.

/^ARSON, though bored, was a

^ bit upset by the recorded con-
versation he'd listened to. Lon
Simpson had been almost inco-
herent, but he obviously meant
Cathy to take him seriously. And
there were some things to back
it up.

He'd reported his generator
hopelessly useless — and hadn't
bought a new one. He'd reported
all his food spoiled — and hadn't
bought more. Carson thought it
over carefully. The crop inspec-
tion helicopter reported Simp-
son's fields in much better shape
than average, so his tractor was
obviously working.

Carson asked casual, deadpan
questions of other colonists who

came into the Company store.
Most of them were liarried, sullen
and bitter. They were unani-
mously aware of the wringer they
were being put through. They
knew what the Company was
doing to them and they hated
Carson because he represented it.
But they did answer Carson's
casual questions about Lon
Simpson.

Yes, he'd tried to borrow food
from them. No, they couldn't
lend it to him. Yes, he was still
eating. In fact he was offering to
swap food. He was short on fruit
and long on frozen green peas.
Then he was long on fruit and
frozen green peas and short on
frozen sweet corn and strawber-
ries. No, he didn't want to trade
on a big scale. One package of
frozen strawberries was all he
wanted. He gave six packages of

frozen peas for it. He gave six
packages of frozen strawberries
for one package of frozen sweet
corn. He'd swapped a dozen par-

eels of sweet corn for one of fillet
of flounder, two dozen fillet of
flounder for cigarettes, and fifty
cartons of cigarettes for a frozen
roast of beef.

It didn't make sense unless the
conversation on the beamphone

was right. If what Lon had told
Cathy was true, he'd have his
frozen food locker filled up again
by now. He had some sort of de-
vice which converted the indi-

136

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

gestible local flora and fauna into
digestible Earth products. To
suspect such a thing was prepos-
terous, but Carson suspected ev-
eryone and everything.

As representative of the Com-
pany, Carson naturally did its
dirty work. New colonists bought
farms from the central office on
Earth and happily took ship to
Cetis Gamma Two. Then Carson
put them through their instruc-
tion course, outfitted them to try
farming on their own, and saw
to it that they went bankrupt
and either starved or took jobs
as farmhands for the Company,
at wages assuring that they could
never take ship away again.

It was a nasty job and Carson
did it very well, because he lov-
ed it.

While he still debated Lon's
insane boasts to Cathy over the
beamphone system, he prepared
to take over the farm of another
colonist. That man had been
deeper in debt than Lon, and he'd
been less skilled at repairs, so it
was time to gather him in. Car-
son called him to Cetopolis to
tell him that the Company re-
gretfully could not extend further
credit, would have to take back
his farm, house, and remaining
food stores, and finish the cultiva-
tion of his thanar leaf crop to re-
pay itself for the trouble.

The colonist, however, said
briefly: "Go to hell."

E started to leave Carson's

air-cooled office. Carson said
mildly :

"You're broke. You'll want a
job when you haven't got a farm.
You can't afford to t^ll me to go
to hell."

"You can't take my farm un-
less my fields are neglected," the
colonist said comfortably. "They
aren't. And my thanar leaf crop is
going to be a bumper one. I'll
pay off all I owe — and we colon-
ists are planning to start a trad-
ing company of our own, to bring
in good machinery and deal
fairly."

Carson smiled coldly,

"You forget -something/' he

said.

"As representative of the

Trading Company, I can call on
you to pay up all your debts at
once, if I have reason to think
you intend to try to evade pay-
ment. I do think so. I call on
you for immediate payment in
full. Pay up, please!"

This was an especially neat
paragraph in the fine print of the
colonists' contract with the Com-
pany. Any time a colonist got
obstinate he could be required to

pay all he owed, on the dot. And
if he had enough to pay, he
wouldn't owe. So the Trading
Company could ruin anybody.

But this colonist merely grin-
ned.

"By law," he observed, "you
have to accept thanar leaves as

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

137

legal tender, at five credits a
kilo. Send out a truck for your
payment. I've got six tons in my
barn, all ready to turn in."

He made a most indecorous

gesture and walked out. A mo-
ment later, he. put his head back
in.

"I forgot," he commented po-
litely. "You said I couldn't afford
to tell you to go to hell. With six
tons of thanar leaves on hand,

I'm telling you

He added several other things,
compared to which telling Carl-
son to go to hell was the height of
courtesy. He went away.

Carson went a little pale. It
occurred to him that this colo-
nist was a close neighbor of Lon
Simpson. Maybe Lon had gotten
tired of converting dhil weed and
shiver leaves into green peas and
asparagus, and had gotten to
work turning out thanar.

CARSON went to Lon's farm.
It was a very bad road, and
any four-wheeled vehicle would
have shaken itself to pieces on
the way. The gyrocar merely jolt-
ed Carson severely. The jolting
kept him from noticing how hot
the weather was. It was really
extraordinarily hot, and Carson
suffered more because he spent
most of his time in an air-condi-
tioned office. But for the same
reason he did not suspect any-
thing abnormal.

When he reached Lon's farm,
he noticed that the thanar leaves
were growing admirably. For a
moment, sweating as he was, he
was reminded of tobacco plants
growing on Maryland hillsides.
The heat and the bluish-green
color of the plants seemed very
familiar. But then a cateagle ran
hastily up a tree, out on a branch,
and launched its crimson furry
self into midair. That broke the
spell of supposedly familiar

things.

Carson turned his gyrocar in
at Lon Simpson's house. There
were half a dozen other colonists

around. Two of them drove up
with farm trucks loaded with
mixed foliage. They had pulled
up, cut ofT and dragged down

just about anything that grew,
and loaded their truck with it.
Two other colonists 'were loading
another cart with thanar leaves,
neatly bundled and ready for the
warehouse.

They regarded Carson with
pleased eyes. Carson spoke se-
verely to Cathy.

"What are you doing here?

You're supposed to be on duty
at the beamphone exchange! You
can be discharged

Lon Simpson said negligently,
"I'm paying her passage. By law,
anybody can pay the passage of
any woman if she intends to

marry him, and then her con-
tract with the company is ended.

138

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

They had rules like that in an-
cient days — only they used to pay
in tobacco instead of thanar
leaves."

Carson gulped. "But how will
you pay her fare?" He asked

sternly. "You're in debt to the
Company yourself."

Lon Simpson jerked his thumb

toward his barn. Carson turned
and looked. It was a nice-looking
barn. The aluminum siding set
it off against a backing of shiver
trees, dhil and giant sketit
growth. Carson's eyes bugged out.
Lon's barn was packed so tightly
with thanar leaves that they
bulged out the doors.

"I need to turn some of that
stuff in, anyhow," said Lon
pleasantly. "I haven't got stor-
age space for it. By law you have
to buy it at five credits a kilo.
I wish you'd send out and get
some. I'd like to build up some
credit. Think I'll take a trip back
to Earth."

At this moment, there was a
very peculiar wave of heat. It was
riot violent, but the temperature
went up about four degrees — sud-
denly, as if somebody had turned
on a room heater.

But still nobody looked up at
the sun.

ATTLED, Carson demanded

furiously if Lon had convert-
ed other local foliage into thanar
leaves, as he'd made his green

peas and the other stuff he'd told
Cathy about on the beamphone.
Lon tensed, and observed to the
other colonists that evidently all
beamphones played into record-
ers. The atmosphere became un-
friendly. Carson got more rattled
still. He began to wave his arms
and sputter.

Lon Simpson treated him gent-
ly. He took him into the house to
watch the converter at work. One

of the colonists kept its large
coil suitably stuffed with assorted
foliage. There was a "hand" of
cured, early — best quality — than-
ar leaves in an erratically cut tin
can. Duplicates of that hand of
best quality thanar were appear-
ing in the small coil as fast as
they were removed, and fresh
foliage was being heaped into the

large coil.

"We expect," said Lon happily,

"to have a bumper crop of the
best grade of thanar this year. It
looks like every colonist on the
planet will be able to pay off* his
debt to the Company and have
credit left over. We'll be sending
a committee back to Earth to
collect our credits there and or-
ganize an independent coopera-
tive trading company that will
bring out decent machinery and
be a competitive buying agency
for thanar. I'm sure the Com-
pany will be glad to see us all so
prosperous."

It was stifling hot by now, but

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

139

nobody noticed. The colonists
were much too interested in see-
ing Carson go visibly to pieces
before them. He was one of those
people who seem to have been
developed by an a 11 -wise Provi-
dence expressly to be underlings
for certain types of large corpora-
tions. Their single purpose in life
is to impress their superiors in
the corporation that hires them.

But now Carson saw his useful-
ness ended. Through his failure,
in some fashion, the Company's
monopoly on thanar leaves and
its beautiful system of recruiting
labor were ruined. He would be
discharged and probably blacks
listed.

If he had looked up toward the
western sky, squinted a little, and
gazed directly at the local sun,
he would have seen that his pri-
vate troubles were of no impor-
tance at all. But he didn't. He
went staggering to his gyrocar
and headed back for Cetopolis.

It was a tiny town, with plank
streets, a beamphone exchange,
and its warehouses over by the
spaceport. It was merely a crude

and rather ugly little settlement

on a newly colonized planet. But
it had been the center of an ad-
mirable system by which the
Cetis Gamma Trading Company
got magnificently ricji and dis-
pensed thanar leaf (a milligram
a day kept old age away)
throughout all humanity at the

very top price the traffic would
bear. And the system was shaky
now and Carson would be blamed

for it.

Behind him, the colonists re-
joiced as hugely as Carson suf-
fered. But none of them got the
proper perspective, because none
of them looked at the sun.

About four o'clock in the after-
noon, it got suddenly hotter
again, as abruptly as before. It

stayed hotter. Something made
Cathy look up. There was a thin
cloud overhead, just the right
thickness to act something like
a piece of smoked glass. She
could look directly at the sun
through it, examine the disk with
her naked eye.

But it wasn't a disk any longer.
Cetis Gamma was a bulging, ir-
regularly shaped thing twice its
normal size. As she looked, it
grew larger still.

OUT on the ninth planet, Rha-
dampsicus was absorbed in
his contemplation of Cetis Gam-
ma. With nothing to interfere
with his scanning, he could fol-
low the developments perfectly."
There had been first one gigantic
prominence, then two, which sep-
arated to opposite sides of its

equator. Then two other promi-
nences began to grow between

them.

For two full days, the new
prominences grew, and then split,

140

GA1AXY SCIENCE FICTION

so that the sun came to have the
appearance of a ball of fire sur-

rounded by a ring of blue-white
incandescence.

Then came instability. Flame

spouting hundreds of
thousands of miles into emptiness
ceased to keep their formation.
They turned north and south
from the equatorial line. The out-
line of the sun became irregular.
It ceased to be round in profile,
and even the appearance of a
ring around it vanished. It look-
ed — though this would never
have occurred to Rhadampsicus
— very much like a fiercely glow-
ing gigantic potato. Its evolution
of heat went up incredibly. It
much more than doubled its rate
of radiation.

Rhadampsicus watched each
detail of the flare-up with fasci-
nated attention. Nodalictha duti-
fully watched with him. But she
could not maintain her interest
in so purely scientific a phenome-
non.

When a thin streamer of pure
blue- white jetted upward from

the sun's pole, attaining a speed
of six hundred and ninety-two
miles per second, Rhadampsicus
turned to her with enthusiasm.
"Exactly in the pattern of a
flare-up according to Dhokis'
theory!" he exclaimed. "I have
always thought he was more near-
ly right thah the modernists.
Radiation pressure can build up

in a closed system such as the
interior of a sun. It can equal the
gravitational constant. And ob-
viously it would break loose at
the pole."

Then he saw that Nodalictha's
manner was one of distress. He
was instantly concerned.

"What's the matter, darling?"
he asked anxiously. "I didn't
mean to neglect you, my precious
one!

Nodalictha did something that
would have scared a human being
out of a year's growth, but was
actually the equivalent of an

unhappy, stifled sob.

"I am a beast!" said Rhadamp-
sicus penitently. "I've kept you
here, in boredom, while I enjoyed
myself watching this sun do
tricks. I'm truly sorry, Nodalic-
tha. We will go on at once. I
shouldn't have asked you

But Nodalictha said unhappily,
"It isn't you, Rhadampsicus. It's
me! While you've been watching
the star, I've amused myself
watching those quaint little crea-
tures on the second planet. I've
thought of them as — well,

pets. I've grown fond of them. It
was absurd of me — "

"Oh, but it is wonderful of
you," said Rhadampsicus tender-
ly. "I love you all the more for
it, my darling. But why are you

unhappy about them? I made

sure they had food and energy."

"They're going to be burned

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

141

up!" wailed Nodalictha, "and
they're so cute!"

Rhadampsicus blinked his eyes
— all sixteen of them. Then he
said self-accusingly, "My dear,
I should have thought of that.
Of course this is only a flare-up,
darling . . ." Then he made an
impatient gesture. "I see! You
would rather think of them as
happy, in their little way, than as

burned to tiny crisps."

He considered, scanning the
second planet with the normal
anxiety of a bridegroom to do
anything that would remove a
cloud from his bride's lovely six-
teen eyes.

NIGHT fell on Cetopolis, and
with it came some slight al-
leviation of the dreadfulness that
had begun that afternoon. The
air was furnacelike in heat and
dryness. There was the smell of
smoke everywhere. The -stars
were faint and red and ominous,
seen through the smoke that over-
lay everything. So far, to be sure,
breathing was possible. It was
even possible to be comfortable
in an air-conditioned room. But

this was only the beginning.

Lon and Cathy sat together on
the porch of his house, after sun-
down. The other colonists had
gone away to their own homes.
When the crack of * doom has
visibly . begun, men do queer
things. In Cetopolis some un-

doubtedly got drunk* or tried to.
But there were farmers who
would spend this last night look-
ing at their v drooping crops, try-
ing to persuade themselves that
if Cetis Gamma only went back
to normal before sunrise, the
crops might yet be saved. But
none of them expected it.

Off to the south there was an
angry reddish glare in the sky. »
That was vegetation on the des-
ert there, burning. It grew thick )
as jungle in the rainy season, ;
and dried out to pure dessication I
in dry weather. It had caught
fire of itself from the sun's glare
in late afternoon. Great clouds of

acrid smoke rose from it to the
stars.

Beyond the horizon to the west ,

there was destruction.

Lon and Cathy sat close to-
gether. She hadn't even asked to
be taken back to Cetopolis, as
convention would have required. >
The sun was growing hotter still

while it sank below the horizon, ;

It was expanding in fits and ■
starts as new writhing spouts of
stuff from its interior burst the
bonds of gravity. Blazing magma
flung upward in an unthinkable
eruption. The sun had been three
times normal size when it set.

Lon was no astronomer, but
plainly the end of life on the
inner planets of Cetis Gamma
was at hand.

Cetis Gamma might, he con-

142

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

sidered, be in the process of be-
coming a nova. Certainly beyond
the horizon there was even more
terrible heat than had struck the
human colony before sundown.
Even if the sun did not explode,
even if it was only as fiercely
blazing as at its setting, they
would die within hours after sun-

rise. If it increased in brightness,
by daybreak its first rays would
be death itself. When dawn came,
the very first direct beams would
set the shiver trees alight on
the hilltops, and as it rose the
fires would go down into the val-
leys. This house would smoke and
writhe and melt; the air would
become flame, and the planet's
surface would glow red-hot as it
turned into the sunshine.

T'S

going to be— all right,

Lon," Cathy said uncon-
vincedly. "It's just something
happening that'll be over in a
little while. But — in case it isn't
— we might as well be together.
Don't you think so?"

Lon put his arm comfortingly
around her. He felt a very strong
impulse to lie. He could pretend
to vast wisdom and tell her the
sun's behavior was this or that,
and never lasted more than a few
hours, but she'd know he lied.
They could spend their last hours
trying to deceive each other out
of pure affection. But they'd
know it was deceit.

"D-don't v you think so?" in-
sisted Cathy faintly.

He said gently, "No, Cathy,
and neither do you. This is the
finish. It wouldVe been a lot
nicer to go on living, the two of

us. We'd have had long, long
years to be together. We'd have
had kids, and they'd have grown
up, and we'd have had— a lot of
things. But now I'm afraid we
won't."

He tried to smile at her, but
it hurt. He thought passionately
that he would gladly submit him-
self to be burned in the slowest
and most excruciating manner
if only she could be saved from
it. But he couldn't do anything.

Cathy gulped. "I — I'm afraid
so, too, Lon," she said in a small
voice. "But it's nice we met each
other, anyhow. Now we know we
love each other. I don't like the
idea of dying, but I'm glad we
knew we loved each other before
it happened."

Lon's hands clenched fiercely.
Then the rage went away. He
said almost humorously, "Carson
—he's back in Cetopolis. I won-
der how he feels. He has no better

chance than anybody else. May-
be he's sent off spacegrams, but
no ship could possibly get here in
time."

Cathy shivered a little. "Let's
not think about him. Just about
us. We haven't much time."

And just then, very strangely,

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

143

an idea came to Lou Simpson.
He tensed.

After a moment, he said in a
very queer voice, "This isn't a
nova. It's a flare-up. The sun isn't
exploding. It's just too hot, too
big for the temperature inside it,
and it's a closed system. So radia-
tion pressure has been building

up. Now it's got to be released.
So it will spout geysers of its
own substance. They'll go out
over hundreds of thousands of

couple of weeks
nearly — -to nor-

miles. But in a
it will be back
mal."

He suddenly knew that. He
knew why it was so. He could
have explained it completely and
precisely. But he didn't know how
he knew. The items that added
together were themselves so self
evident that he didn't even won-
der how he knew them. They had
to be so!

ATHY said muffledly, her

face against his shoulder,
"But we won't be alive in a
couple of weeks, Lon. We can't
live long past daybreak."

He did not answer. There were
more ideas coming into his mind.
He didn't know where they came

from. But again they were such

self evident, unquestionable facts
that he did not wonder about
them. He simply paid tense, des-
perately concentrated attention
as they formed themselves.

"We — may live," he said shaki-
ly. "There's an ionosphere up at
the top of the atmosphere here,
just like there is on Earth. It's
made by the sunlight ionizing the
thin air. The — stronger sunlight
will multiply the ionization.
There'll be an — actually con-

»?

ducting layer of air . .
The air will become a conductor,
up there." He wet his lips. "If I
make a — gadget to — short-circuit
that conducting layer to the
ground here . . . When radiation
photons penetrate a transparent
conductor — but there aren't any
transparent conductors — the pho-
tons will — follow the three-finger

rule ...

"They'll move at right angles

. to their former course

He swallowed. Then he got up
very quietly. He put her aside.
He went to his tool shed. He
climbed to the roof of the barn

now filled with thanar leaves. He
swung his axe.

The barn was roofed with
aluminum over malleable plastic.
The useful property of malleable ;
plastic is that it does not yield to
steady pressure, but does yield
to shock. It will stay in shape in-
definitely under a load, but one
can tap it easily into any form

one desires.

Lon swung his axe, head down.
Presently he asked Cathy to
climb up a ladder and hold a

lantern for him. He didn't need "

144

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

light for the rough work — the
burning desert vegetation gave
enough for that. But when one
wants to make a parabolic reflec-
tor by tapping with an axe, one
needs light for the finer part of
the job.

N Cetopolis, Carson agitatedly
put his records on tape and

sent it all off by spacegram. He'd
previously reported on Lon Simp-
son, but now he knew that he was

going to die. And he followed his
instinct to transmit all his quite
useless records, in order that his
superiors might realize he had
been an admirable employee. It
did not occur to him that his su-
periors might be trying frantical-
ly to break his sending beam to

demand that he find out how Lon
Simpson made his power gadget
and how he converted vegetation,
before it was too late. They

didn't succeed in breaking his
beam, because Carson kept it

busy.

He was true to type.

Elsewhere, other men were true
to type, too. The human popula-
tion of Cetis Gamma Two was
very small. There were less than
five thousand people on the plan-
et — all within a hundred miles of
Cetopolis, and all now on. the
night side. The rest of the plan-
et's land masses scorched and
shriveled and burst into flame
where the sun struck them. The

few small oceans heated and
their surfaces even boiled. But
nobody saw it. The local fauna
and flora died over the space of
continents.

But in the human settlement

, people acted according to
their individual natures. Some
few ran amok and tried to
destroy everything — including
themselves} — before the blazing
sun could return to do it. More
sat in stunned silence, waiting
for doom. A few dug desperately,
trying to excavate caves or pits
in which they or their wives or
children could be safe . . .

But Lon pounded at his barn
roof. He made a roughly para-
bolic mirror some three yards
across. He stripped off aluminum
siding and made a connection
with the ground. He poured
water around that connection.
He built a crude multiply twisted
device of copper wire and put it
in the focus of the parabolic
mirror.

He looked up at the sky. The
stars seemed dimmer. He took
the copper thing away, and they
brightened a little. He carefully
adjusted it until the stars were

at their dimmest.

He descended to the ground
again. He felt an odd incredulity
about what he'd done. He didn't
doubt that it would work. He
was simply unable to understand
how he'd thought of it.

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

145

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GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

HERE, darling! Your pets nomena was conversation. With

are quite safe!" Rhadamp-
sicus said pleasedly.

Nodalictha scanned the second
planet. It was apparently coated
with a metallic covering. But it
was not quite like metal. It was
misty, like an unsubstantial bar-
rier to light — and to Nodalictha's
penetrating thoughts.

"I had your male pet," Rha-
dampsicus explained tenderly,
"set up a power beam link to the
ionosphere. With several times
the usual degree of ionization —
because of the flaring sun — ; the
grounded ionosphere became a
Rhinthak screen about the planet.
The more active the sun, the
more dense the screen. They'll
have light to see by when their
side of the planet is toward the
sun, but no harmful radiation
can get down to them. And the
screen will fade away as the sun
goes back to its normal state."

Nodalictha rejoiced. Then she
was a little distressed.

"But now I can't watch them?"
she pouted. Rhadampsicus watch-
ed her gravely. She said ruefully,
"I see, Rhadampsicus. You've
spoiled me! But if I can't watch
them for the time being, I won't
have anything to occupy me.
Darling Rhadampsicus, you must
talk to me sometimes!"

He talked to her absorbedly.
He seemed to think, however, that

feminine guile, she pretended to
be satisfied, but presently she
went back to her housekeeping.
She began to dream of their life
when they had returned home,
and of the residence they would
inhabit there. Presently she was
planning the parties she would
give as a young matron, with
canapes of krypton snow and zen-
on ice, with sprinklings of lovely
red nickel bromide crystals for
a garnish

fT^HE sun rose again, and they

-*- lived. It was as if the sky were
covered with a thick cloud bank
which absorbed the monstrous
radiation of a sun now four times
its previous diameter and madly
. changing shape like a monstrous
ameba of flame.

In time the sun set. It rose
again. It set. And Cetis Gamma
Two remained a living planet
instead of being a scorched cinder.

When four days had gone by
and nobody died, the colonists
decided that they might actually
keep on living. They had at first
no especially logical foundation
for their belief.

But Cathy boasted. And she
boasted in Cetopolis. Since they
wefe going to keep on living, the
conventions required that she re-
turn to the planet's one human
settlement and her duties as a
discussion of the local solar phe- beamphone operator. It wasn't

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

147

proper for her to stay unchaper-
oned so long as she and Lon
weren't married yet.

She had no difficulty with Car-
son. He didn't refer to her de-
sertion. Carson had his own
troubles. Now that he had decided
that he would live, his problems
multiplied. The colonists' barns
were filled to capacity with thanar
leaves which would pay off their

debts" to the Company. He began
to worry about that.

Lost without the constant di-
rectives from the Company, he
had his technicians step up the
power in the settlement trans-
mitter. He knew that the screen

Lon had put up would stop or-
dinary spacegram transmission.

Even with a tight beam,* he could
broadcast and receive only at

night, when the screen was thin-
nest. Even so, he had to search
out holes in the screen.

The system didn't work per-
fectly — it wasn't two-way at all,
until the Company stepped up
the power in its own transmitter
— but spacegrams started to get
through again.

Carson smiled in relief. He be-
gan to regain some of his old
arrogantly bored manner. Now
that the Company's guiding hand
was once more with him, nothing
seemed as bad as it had been. He
was able to report that*something
had happened to save the colony
from extinction, and that Lon

Simpson had probably done it.

In return, he got a spacegram
demanding full particulars, and
precise information on the de-
vices he had reported Lon Simp-
son to have made.

Humbly, Carson obeyed his
corporation.

E pumped Cathy- — which was

not difficult, because she was
bursting with pride in Lon. She
confirmed, in detail, the rumor
that Lon was somehow respon-
sible for the protective screen
that was keeping everybody alive.

Carson sent the information by
spacegram. He was informed that
a special Company ship was
heading for Cetis Gamma Two at
full speed. Carson would take
orders from its skipper when it
arrived. Meanwhile, he would buy
thanar leaf if absolutely neces-
sary, but stall as long as possible.
The legal staff of the Trading
Company was working on the
problem of adapting the system
to get the new surplus supplies of
thanar without letting anybody
get anything in particular for it.
He would keep secret the coming
of the special ship, which was
actually the space yacht of a
member of the Board of Directors.
And he would display great
friendliness toward Lon Simpson.

The last was the difficult part,
because Lon Simpson was be-
coming difficult. With the sun

148

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

writhing as if in agony overhead
■seen dimly through a perma-
nent blessed mistiness — and
changing shape from hour to
hour, Lon Simpson had discov-
ered something new to get mad
about. Lon had felt definitely on
top of the world. He had solved
the problem of clearing his debts
and getting credit sufficient for
two passages back to Earth, with
money there to take care of get-
ting rich on his inventions. There
was no reason to delay marriage.

He wanted to get married. And
through a deplorable oversight,
there had been no method devised
by which a legal marriage cere-
mony could be performed on
Cetis Gamma Two.

It was one of those accidental
omissions which would presently

be rectified. But the legal minds
who'd set up the system for the
planet had been thinking of mon-
ey, not marriages. They hadn't
envisioned connubial bliss as a
service the Company should pro-
vide. And Lon was raising cain.
His barn was literally bursting
with thanar leaves, and he was
filling up his attic, extra bedroom,
living quarters and kitchen with
more. He was rich. He wanted to
get married. And it wasn't pos-
sible.

Lon was in a position to raise

much more cain than ordinary.
He'd made an amicable bargain
with his fellow colonists. They

brought truckloads of miscellan-
eous foliage to be put into his
vegetation converter,* and he con-
verted it all into thanar leaves.

The product was split two ways.
Everybody was happy — except

Carson — Because every colonist
had already acquired enough
thanar leaf to pay himself out of

debt, and was working on extra
capital.

If this kept up, the galactic
market would be broken.

Carson had nightmares about
that.

O the sun went through con-
vulsions in emptiness, and no-
body on its second planet paid

■

any attention at all. After about
a week, it occasionally subsided.
When that happened, the ioniza-
tion of the planet's upper atmo-
sphere lessened, the radiation
screen grew thinner, and a larger
proportion of light reached the
surface. When the sun flared
higher, the shield automatically
grew thicker. An astronomical
phenomenon which should have
destroyed all life on the inner
planets carne to be taken for
granted.

But events on the second plan-
et were not without consequences
elsewhere. The Board of Directors
of the Cetis Gamma Trading
Company simultaneously jittered
and beamed with anticipation. If
Lon could convert one form of

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

149

vegetable product into another,
then the Company's monopoly of
thanar would vanish as soon as
he got loose with his device. On
the other hand, if the Company
could get that device for its very
own ...

Thanar had a practically un-
limited market. Every year a
new age group of the population

needed a milligram a day to keep
old age away. But besides that,
there - was Martian zuss fiber,
which couldn't be marketed be-
cause there wasn't enough of it,
but would easily fetch a thousand

credits a kilo if Lon's gadget
could produce it from samples.
There was that Arcturian sicces
dust — the pollen of an inordinate-
ly rare plant on Arcturus Four-
which could be sold at more than
its weight in diamonds, for per-
fume. And

The directors of the Company
shivered over what might hap-
pen; and gloated over what
could. So they kept their fingers
crossed while the space yacht of
one of their number sped to\vard
Cetis Gamma Two, manned by
very trustworthy men who would
carry out their instructions with
care and vigor and no nonsense
about it.

Lon Simpson worked with his
neighbors, converting all sorts of
vegetable debris — the * fact that
some of it was scorched did not
seem to matter — into thanar leaf

which was sound legal tender on
that particular planet. From time
to time he went to Cetopolis. He
talked sentimentally and yearn-
ingly to Cathy. And then he went
to Carson's office and raised the
very devil because there was as
yet no arrangement by which he
and Cathy could enter into the
state of holy matrimony.

HADAMPSICUS looked over

his notes and was very well
pleased. He explained to Nodalic-
tha that from now on the return
of Cetis Gamma to its normal
condition would be a cut-and-
dried affair. He would like to
stay and watch it, but the impor-
tant phenomena were all over
now. He said solicitously that if
she wanted to go on, completing
their nuptial journey , ; . She

might be anxious to see her fami-
ly and friends . . . She might be
lonely ...

Nodalicftha smiled at him. The
process would have been horri-
fying to a human who watched,
but Rhadampsicus smiled back.

"Lonely?" asked Nodalictha
coyly* "With you, Rhadampsi-
cus?"

He impulsively twined his eye
stalks about hers. A little later
he was saying tenderly, "Then
I'll just finish my observations,
darling, and we'll go on — since
you don't mind waiting.

««

I'd like to see my pets again,

150

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

said Nodalictha, nestling com-
fortably against him.

Together, they scanned the sec-
ond planet, but their thoughts
could not penetrate its Rhinthak

screen. They saw the space yacht

flash up to it. Rhadampsicus in-
spected the minds of the bipeds
inside it. Nodalictha, of course,
modestly refrained from entering
the minds of male creatures other
than her husband.

"Peculiar," commented Rha-
dampsicus. "Very peculiar. If I

were a sociologist, I might find it

less baffling. But they must have

a very queer sort of social sys-
tem. They actually intend to
harm your pets, Nodalictha, be-
cause the male now knows how
to supply them all with food and
energy! Isn't that strange? I
wish the Rhinthak screen did not
block off scanning ... But it

will fade, presently/*

"You will keep the others from
harming my pets," said Nodalic-
tha confidently. "Do you know,
darling, I think I must be quite
the luckiest person in the Galaxy,
to be married, to you."

fT^HE space yacht landed at the

*■- field outside Cetopolis. In-
habitants of the tiny town flocked
to the field to see new faces. They

were disappointed. One man came

out and the airlock closed. No
visitors.

The skipper went into Carson's

happily.

office. He closed the door firmly
behind him. He had very beady
eyes and a very hard-boiled ex-
pression. He looked at Carson

with open contempt, and Carson
felt that it was because Carson

did the Company's dirty work
with figures and due regard for
law and order, instead of frankly
and violently and without shilly-
shallying. i>:

"This Lon Simpson's got those
gadgets, eh?" asked the skipper.
Why— yes," said Carson un-

"He's very popular at
the moment. He made something
on his barn roof that kept the sun
from burning us all to death, you
know — that still keeps us from
burning to death, for that mat-
ter."

"So if we take it away or smash
it," observed the skipper, "we
don't have to worry about any-
body saying nasty things about
us afterward. Yeah?"

Carson swallowed.

"Everybody' d die if you smash-
ed the gadget," he admitted, "but
all the thanar plants in existence

would be burned up, too. There'd
be no more thanar. The Company

wouldn't like that."

The skipper waved his hand.
"How do I get this Simpson on
my ship? Take a bunch of my
men and go grab him?"

"Wh-what are you going to do
with him?"

"Don't you worry," said the

THE SENTIMENTALIST?

151

skipper comfortingly. "We know

how to handle it. He knows how

to make some things the bosses

want to know how to make. Once

I get him on the ship, he'll tell.
We got ways. Do I take some men
and grab him, or will you get him
on board peaceable ?"

"There — ah — " Carson licked
his lips. "He wants to get mar-
ried. There's no provision in the
legal code for it, as yet. It was
overlooked. But I can tell him
that as a ship captain, you-

The skipper nodded matter of
factly.

"Right. You get him and the
girl on board. And I've got some
orders for you. Gather up plenty
of thanar seed. Get some starting
trays with young plants in them.
I'll come back in a couple of
days and take you and them on
board. The stuff this guy has got
is too good, understand?"

"N-no. I'm afraid I don't."

the

I GET this guy to tell us how
to make his gadgets,"
skipper explained contemptuous-
ly. "We make sure he tells us
right. To be extra sure, we leave
the gadgets he's got made and
working back here, where he can't
get to 'em and spoil 'em. But
when we know all he knows — and
what he only guesses, too, and
my tame scientists have made
the same kinda gadgets, an' they
work — why, we come back and

pick you up, and the thanar seed
and the young growing plants.
Then we get the gadgets this guy
made here, and we head back for
Earth."

"But if you take the gadget
that keeps us all from being
burned up — " Carson said agi-
tatedly, "if you do, everybody
here—"

"Won't that be too bad?" the
skipper said ironically. "But you
won't be here. You'll be on the
yacht. Don't worry. Now go fix
it for the girl and him to walk
into our parlor."

Carson's hand

shook

reached for the beamphone. His
voice was not quite normal as he
explained to Cathy in. the ex-
change that the skipper of the

space yacht had the legal power
to perform marriage ceremonies
in space. And Carson, as a gesture
of friendship to one of the most
prominent colonists, had asked if
the captain would oblige Cathy
and Lon. The captain had agreed.
If they made haste, he would
take them out in space and marry
them.

The skipper of the space yacht
regarded him with undisguised
scorn when he hung up the phone
and mopped his face.

"Pretty girl, eh?" he asked con-
temptuously, "and you didn't
have the nerve to grab her for
yourself?" He did not wait for
an answer. "I'll look her over.

152

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

You

for

get your stuff ready
when I come back in a couple of
days."

"But — when you release them,"
Carson said shakily, "They'll re-
port — "

The skipper looked at Carson
without any expression at all.
Then he went out.

Carson felt sick. But he was a
very loyal employee of the Cetis
Gamma Trading Company.
From the windows of .his air-con-
ditioned office, he watched Lon
Simpson greet Cathy on his ar-
rival in Cetopolis. He saw Cathy
put a sprig of chanel blossoms on
the lapel of her very best suit, in
lieu of a bridal bouquet. And he
watched them go with shining
faces toward the airport. He
didn't try to stop them.

Later he heard the space yacht
take off.

IVTODALICTHA prepared to

■*■ ^ share the thoughts and the
happiness of. the female biped
whose emotions were familiar,

since Nodalictha was so recently
a bride herself. Rhadampsicus
was making notes, but he gal-
lantly ceased when Nodalictha
called to him. They sat, then, be-
fore their crude but comfortable
bower on the ninth planet, all set
to share the quaint rejoicing of
the creatures of which Nodalic-
tha had grown fond.

Nodalictha penetrated the

thoughts of the female, in pleased
anticipation. Rhadampsicus scan-
ned the mind of the male, and his
expression changed. He shifted
his thought to another and an-
other of the bipeds in the ship's
company. He spoke with some
distaste.

"The ones you consider your
pets, Nodalictha, are amiable
enough. But the others — " He
frowned. "Really, darling, if you
went into their minds, you'd be
most displeased. They are quite
repulsive. Let's forget about them
and start for home. If you really
care for pets, we've much more
suitable creatures there."

Nodalictha pouted.

Rhadampsicus, let's just

watch their marriage ceremony.
It is so cute to think of little crea-
tures like that loving each other

and marrying-

Rhadampsicus withdrew his
thought from the space yacht and

looked about the charming rural
retreat he and Nodalictha had
occupied. Its nitrogen-snow walls
glittered in the starlight. The gar-
den of cyanogen flowers and the
border of ammonia crystals and
the walkway of monoclinic sul-
phur, and the reflection pool of
liquid hydrogen he'd installed in
an odd half hour. These were
simple, but they were delightful.

The crudity of the space yacht
with its, metal walls so curiously

covered over with a coating of

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

153

lead oxide in hardened oil, and
the vegetable gum flooring . . .
Rhadampsicus did not like the
surroundings men made for them-
selves in space.

"Very well, darling,* ' he said
resignedly. "We will watch, and
then we'll take off for home. I'm
anxious to see what the modern-
ists have to say when I show
them my notes on this flare-up.
— And of course/' he added with
grave humor, "you want to show
your family that I haven't ill-
treated you."

He was the barest trace impa-
tient, but Nodalictha's thoughts
were with the female biped in the
spaceship. Her expression was
distressed.

"Rhadampsicus!" she said an-
grily. "The other bipeds are be-
ing unkind to my pets! Do
something! I don't like them!"

SAILOR in a soiled uniform

led them into the space
yacht's saloon. The airlock clank-
ed shut, and the yacht soared for
the skies. The sailor vanished.
Nobody else came near. Then
Lon stiffened. He got the flavor
of his surroundings. He had
Cathy with him. On her account,
his flesh crawled suddenly.

This was a space yacht, but of
a very special kind. It was a
pleasure ship. The decorations
were subtly disgusting. There
were pictures on the walls, and

at first glance they were pretty
enough, but on second glance
they were disquieting, and when

carefully examined they were
elaborately and allusively mon-
strous. This was the yacht of
someone denying that anything

could be more desirable than
pleasure — and who took his plea-
sure in a most unattractive fash-
ion.

Lon grasped this much, and it
occurred to him that the crew of
such a yacht would be chosen for
its willingness to cooperate in its
owner's enterprises. And Lon
went somewhat pale, for Cathy
was with him.

The ship went up and up, with
the dark shutters over the ports
showing that it was in sunshine
fierce enough to be dangerous on
unshielded flesh. Presently there
was the feel of maneuvering. Af-
ter a time the shutters flipped
open and stars were visible.

Lon went quickly to a port and
looked out. The great black mass
of the night side of Cetis Gamma
Two filled half the firmament. It
blotted out the sun. The space
yacht might be two or three thou-
sand niiles up and in the planet's
umbra — its shadow — which was
not necessary for a space wed-
ding, or for anything involving a
reasonably brief stay in the ex-
cessive heat Cetis Gamma gave

off.

There were clankings. A door

154

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

opened. The skipper came in and
Cathy smiled at him because she
didn't realize Lon's fierce appre-
hension. Four other men followed,
all in soiled and untidy space
yacht uniforms, then two other
men in more ordinary clothing.

■

Their expressions were distinctly
uneasy.

The four sailors walked matter
of factly over to Lori and grabbed
at him. They should have taken
him completely by surprise, but
he had been warned just enough
to explode into battle. It was a
very pretty fight; for a time. Lon
kept three of them busy. One
snarled with a wrenched wrist,
another spat blood and teeth and
a third had a closed eye before
the fourth swung a chair. Then

Lon hit something with his head.

It was the deck, but he didn't
know it.

HEN he came to, he was

hobbled. He was not bound
so he couldn't move, but his
hands were handcuffed together,
with six inches of chain between
for play. His ankles were simi-
larly restricted. He could move,
but he could not fight. Blood was
trickling down his temple and

somebody was holding his head
up.

The skipper said impatiently,
"All right, stand back."

Lon's head was released. The
skipper jerked a thumb. Men

went out. Lon looked about des-
perately for "Cathy. She was there

dead white and terrified, but
apparently unharmed. She stared
at Lon in wordless pleading.

"You're a suspicious guy,
aren't you?" asked the skipper
sardonically. "Somebody lays a
finger on you and you start fight-
ing. But you've got the idea. I'll
say it plain so we can get mov-
ing. You're Lon Simpson. Car-
son, down on the planet, reported
some nice news about you. You
made a gadget that converts any
sort of leaf to thanar. Maybe it
turns stuff to other stuff, too." He
paused. "We want to know how
to make gadgets like that. You're
gonna draw plans an' explain the
theory. I got guys here to listen.

We're gonna make one, from your

plans an' explanations, an' it'd
better work. See?"

"Carson sent for you to do
this," Lon Simpson said thickly.

"He did. The Company wants
it. They'll use it to make zuss
fiber and sicces dust, and stuff
like that. Maybe dream dust, too,
an' so on. The point is you're
gonna tell us how to make those
gadgets. How about it?"

Lon licked his lips. He said
slowly, "I think there's more. Go

on.

"You made another gadget,"
said the skipper, with relish,
"that turns out power without
fuel. The Company wants that,

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

155

too. Spacelines will pay for it.
Cities will pay for it. It ought
to be a pretty nice thing. You're
gonna make plans and explana-
tions of how that works and we're
gonna make sure they're right.
That clear?"

"Will you let us go when I've
told you?" Lon asked bitterly.

"Not without one more gad-
get," the skipper added amiably.
"You made something that put a
screen around the planet yonder,
so it didn't get burned up. It'd
oughta be useful. The company
'11 put one around Mercury.
Convenient for minin' operations.
One around that planet that's too
close to Sirius. Oh, there's plenty
of places that'll be useful. So
you'll get set to draw up the
plans for that, too — and explana-
tions of how it works. Then we'll
talk about lettin' you go."

ON knew that he wouldn't be

let go in any case. Not after
he'd told them what was wanted.
Not by men who'd work on a
pleasure craft like this. Not* with
Cathy a prisoner with him. But
he might as well get all the cards
down.

"And if I won't tell you what
you want to know?" he asked.
The skioDer shrugged his

skipper
shoulders. "You

shrugged

knocked

were

out a while," he said without
heat. "While we were waitin' for
you to come to, we told her

j»

he jerked his thumb at Cathy-

what would happen to her if
you weren't obligin'. We told her
plenty. She knows we mean it.
We won't hurt you until we've
finished with her. So you'd better
get set to talk. I'll let her see if
she can persuade you peaceable.
I'll give her ten minutes.

He went out. The door clicked
shut behind him and Lon knew

that this was the finish. He looked
at Cathy's dazed, horror- filled
eyes. He knew this wasn't a bluff.
He was up against the same sys-
tern that had brought colonists to
Cetis Gamma, Two. The brains
that had planned that system had
planned this. They'd gotten com-
pletely qualified men to do their
dirty work in both cases.

"Lon, darling! Please kill me!"
Cathy said in a hoarse whisper.

He looked at her in astonish-
ment.

"Please kill me!" repeated
Cathy desperately. "They- — they
can't ever dare let us go, Lon,
after what they've told me!
They've got to kill us both. But

Loh, darling — please kill me

first . . ."

An idea came into Lon's mind.
He surveyed it worriedly. He
knew that he would have to tell
what he knew and then he would
be killed. The Cetis Gamma

Trading Company wanted his in-
ventions, and it would need him

dead after it had them.

156

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

The idea was hopeless, but he
had to try it. They knew he'd
made gadgets which did remark-
able things. If he made something
now and persuaded them that it
was a weapon ...

His flesh crawled with horror.
Not for himself, but for Cathy.
He fumbled in his, pockets. A
pocket knife. A key chain. String.
His face was completely gray. He
ripped an upholstered seat. There
were coiled springs under the
foamite. He pulled away a piece
of decorative molding. He knew
it wouldn't work, but there wasn't
anything else to do. His hands
moved awkwardly, with the
handcuffs limiting their move-
ments.

Time passed. He had some-
thing finished. It was a bit of
wood with a coil spring from the
chair, with his key chain wrapped
around it and his pocket knife
set in it so that the blade would
seem to make a contact. But it
would achieve nothing whatever.

Cathy stared at him. Her eyes
were desperate, but she believed.
She'd seen three equally improb-
able devices perform wonders.
While Lon made something that
looked like the nightmare of an
ultimatist sculptor, she watched
in terrified hope.

E HAD it in his hand when

saloon. He said prosaically, "Shall
I call in the scientist guys to lis-
ten, or the persuader guys to work
on her?"

"Neither. I've made another
gadget," Lon said from a dry
throat. "It will kill you. It'll kill
everybody on the ship — from
here. You're going to put us back
down on the planet below."

The skipper did not look at the
gadget, but at Lon's face. Then
he called. The f oul men of the

crew and the two uneasy scien-
tists came in.

the door opened again and
the skipper came back into the

"We got to persuade," the skip-
per said sardonically. "He just
told me he's made a new gadget
that'll kill us all."

He moved unhurriedly toward
Lon. Lon knew that his bluff was
no good. If the thing had actu-
ally been a weapon, he'd have
been confident and assured. He
didn't feel that way, but he raised
the thing menacingly as the skip-
per approached.

The skipper took it away,
laughing.

"We'll tie him in a chair an'
get to work on her. When he's
ready to talk, we'll stop." He
looked at the object in his hands.
It was ridiculous to look at. It
was as absurd as the device that
extracted power from matter
stresses, and the machine that
converted one kind of vegetation
into another, and the apparatus —

partly barn roof — that had short-

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

157

cuited the ionosphere of Cetis
Gamma Two to the planet's solid
surface. It looked very foolish in-
deed.

The skipper was amused.

"Look out, you fellas," he said
humorously. "It's gonna kill
you!"

He crooked his finger and the
knifeblade made a contact. He
swept it in mock menace about
the saloon. The four crew- mem-
bers and the two scientists went
stiff. He gaped at them, then

turned the device to stare at it
incredulously. He came within its
range.

He stiffened. Off-balance, he
fell on the device, breaking its
gimcrack fastenings and the con-
tact which transmitted nothing
that Lon Simpson could imagine
coming out of it. The others fell,
one by one, with peculiarly solid
impacts.

Their flesh was incredibly hard.
It was as solid, in fact, as so
much mahogany.

TVTODALICTHA said warmly,

t ' "You're a darling, Rhadamp-
sicus! It was outrageous of those
nasty creatures to intend to harm
my pets! I'm glad you attended

to them!"

"And I'm glad you're pleased,
my dear," Rhadampsicus said
pleasantly. "Now shall we set out
for home?"

cosy landscape of the ninth planet
of Cetis Gamma. There were jag-
ged peaks of frozen air, and
mountain ranges of water, solidi-
fied ten thousand aeons ago.

There were frost-trees of nitro-
gen, the elaborate crystal forma-
tions of argon, and here a wide
sweep of oxygen crystal sward,
with tiny peeping wild crystals
of deep-blue cyanogen seeming to
grow more thickly by the brook
of liquid hydrogen. And there was
their bower; primitive, but the
scene of a true honeymoon idyll.

"I almost hate to go home,
Rhadampsicus," Nodalictha said.
"We've been so happy here. Will
you remember it for always?"

"Naturally," said Rhadampsi-
cus. "I'm glad you've been hap-

py."

Nodalictha snuggled up to him
and twined eye stalks with him.

"Darling," she said softly,
"you've been wonderful, and I've
been spoiled, and you've let me
be. But I'm going to be a very
dutiful wife from now on, Rha-
dampsicus. Only it has been fun,
having you be so nice to me!"

"It's been fun for me, too,"
replied Rhadampsicus gallantly.

Nodalictha took a last glance
around, and each of her sixteen
eyes glowed sentimentally. Then
she scanned the far- distant space-
ship in the shadow of the second
planet from the now subsiding

""'J

Nodalictha looked about the sun.

158

GALAXY SCIENCE FICTION

My pets," she said tenderly*
"But — Rhadampsicus, what are

they doing?"

"They've discovered that the
crew of their vehicle — they call it
a space yacht— aren't dead, that
they're only in suspended anima-
tion. And they've decided in some
uneasiness that they'd better take
them back to Earth to be re-
vived."

"How nice! I knew they were

sweet little creatures!"

Rhadampsicus hesitated a mo-
ment,

"Prom the male's mind I gather
something else. Since the crew of
this space yacht was incapaci-
tated, and they were — ah— not
employed on it, he and your fe-?
male will bring it safely to port,
and, I gather that they have a
claim to great reward. Ah — it is
something they call 'salvage.' He
plans to use it to secure other
rewards he calls 'patents' and

they expect to live happily ever
after."

"And," cried Nodalictha glee-
fully, "from the female's mind I
know that she is very proud of
him, because she doesn't know
that you designed all the instru-
ments he made, darling. She's
speaking to him now, telling him
she loves him very dearly."

Then Nodalictha blushed a lit-
tle, because in a faraway space
yacht Cathy had kissed Lon
Simpson. The process seemed

highly indecorous to Nodalictha,
so recently a bride.

"Yes," said Rhadampsicus, dri-
ly. "He is returning the compli-
ment. It is quaint to think of
such small creatures — Ha! No-
dalictha, you should be pleased
again. He is telling her that they
will be married when they reach
Earth, and that she shall have a
white dress and a veil and a train.
But I am afraid we cannot fol-
low to witness the ceremony."

Their tentacles linked and their
positron blasts mingling, the two
of them soared up from the sur-
face of the ninth planet of Cetis

Gamma. They swept away, head-
ed for their home at the extreme
outer tip of the most far-flung
arm of the spiral outposts of the
Galaxy.

"But still," said Nodalictha, as
they swept through emptiness at
a speed unimaginable to humans,
"they're wonderfully cute."

"Yes, darling," Rhadampsicus
agreed, unwilling to start an ar-
gument so soon after the wed-
ding. "But not as cute as you."

£\N THE space yacht, Lon

^-^ Simpson tried to use his ge-
nius to invent a way to get his

handcuffs and leg-irons off. He
failed completely.

■

Cathy had to get the keys out

of the skipper's pocket and unlock
them for him.

MURRAY LEINSTER

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

159

Galaxy

SCIENCE FICTION

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